


Mount Massive Omega Rehabilitation Center

by TreeFinder27



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: AU, Alpha Eddie, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dark, Dark Eddie, Dark fic, Doctor Eddie, Doctor Trager, Eddie starts off cool and then becomes obsessive, Fluffy until it's not, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Omega Waylon, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Eddie, Soul Mate Marks, Waylon swears a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-06-26 10:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15661230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreeFinder27/pseuds/TreeFinder27
Summary: “Eddie, if you truly do love me for me, then you’ll let me go. End things now.” Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but Waylon speeds on ahead, frantic to explain his feelings. “You’ve been a good friend to me, but I’m not prepared to be owned by you. I don’t want to be owned by anyone, and I don’t want to sit back and wait for my biological impulses to change my mind. I want to befree, Eddie, and I can’t have that as a bonded omega.” Waylon’s eyes are misty as he searches Eddie’s face for a trace of understanding. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to give my freedom up for anyone, not even you.”Eddie swallows thickly, his face darkening. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” He stands up and brushes off his pants. He looks casually over at Waylon in the hospital bed. “I’ll be back tomorrow to collect you.”“Wait, I’m going back to the clinic? Already?”Eddie’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “No. You’re coming home with me. It was unanimously decided by both the doctors here and at the clinic that you should be in the care of your bond mate.”OrTwenty-seven year old Waylon was an omega passing as a beta, until he was discovered and sent to Mount Massive Omega Rehabilitation Center.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I think this is a pretty typical ABO/soulmate mark AU. Omegas are extremely rare, and are generally the most fertile, and since the population has dropped significantly, the government has stepped in to regulate quite a bit- including bond marks and bond-mates. When an alpha and omega have matching bond marks, they become bond mates, and are the most fertile pairing. The government documents bond marks and stores them into a data system so they can pair up bond mates more effectively. Betas never receive bond marks, only alphas and omegas who have bond mates do. 
> 
> Also, I had originally written a piece of this fic to be used as a memory in my other story, but I started playing around with it until eventually I had accidentally turned it into a full story. 
> 
> Waylon is twenty-seven, Eddie is thirty, and who really cares how old Trager is?

Eddie sneaks into the small observation room. There’s already a few other doctors seated and taking notes. This was supposed to be a very special case, after all. Trager is interviewing his newest patient—a twenty-seven year old omega who has been on suppressors for the last ten years and has thus never gone into heat and presented his secondary gender. He had been passing as a beta this whole time, but he was recently discovered as a developing omega. The man who had been illegally procuring his suppressors was facing trail soon, and the whole country was following the proceedings, curious to see to what extent the government would punish the man. Crimes against omegas, especially including aiding and abetting an omega in acquiring and taking suppressors, were considered particularly egregious. Betas were more often than not infertile, so it meant that raising the world’s population back to sustainable numbers was up to the omegas. Anything that might affect an omega’s health and ability to reproduce was punished harshly by the law. 

Eddie sits down in one of the remaining fold-out chairs closest to the viewing window. He looks through the two-way mirror and sees Trager lounging in a black leather desk chair, tying his long, grey hair back into a ponytail, looking as though he is getting comfortable for a long interview. Eddie can’t stop himself from staring at and analyzing the other man in the room. He looks very small, folded in on himself in the middle of the couch opposite of Trager. Eddie is a little surprised that someone who clearly has so many characteristics of an omega was able to pass as a beta for so long. The man is petite and small framed, with slightly curly blonde hair. His large eyes are frantic as he looks from Trager to the mirrored glass, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. Eddie’s heart aches at the sight of him. He looks terrified.

Trager clears his throat. “I’m going to start by asking you a few questions, alright Waylon?”

Waylon slowly nods, still biting his lip. “Okay,” Trager begins, “so how old were you when you first started taking suppressors?”

“I was twelve.” Waylon is wringing his hands together and continuing to peek at the one-way window. Eddie jerks slightly as the man’s eyes lock with his. He has to remind himself that there’s no way the omega could be looking at him, as he can’t actually see him through the glass.

“And it was your friend, Miles, who illegal procured and distributed these drugs to you, correct?”

Waylon turns towards Trager, his eyes narrowed. “If you mean he helped me find some and showed me how to properly use them, then yes.”

Trager begins scribbling notes on his note pad. Several of the men in the observation room follow his example. “And he continued to illegally procure these drugs for you for fifteen years? Sometimes resorting to theft or the black market?”

“Well, if he could have acquired them through legal means he wouldn’t have had to steal them, now would he?” Waylon growls. His body is rigid and his hands are clenched tightly by his sides.

Trager simply smiles at him and lifts his hands up in surrender. “Fair enough, buddy.”

“For an omega, he’s not very agreeable.” Another doctor in the observation room mumbles. 

“Yeah, I don’t know how he’s going to acclimate to life as an omega after parading around as a beta. What’s the point? What alpha will want him?” Another voice responds. Eddie can’t help but disagree. He likes the man’s spirit. It’s unfortunate that he was misguided for so many years, but he is sure after some therapy the omega will acclimate to his new life.  


Trager continues with his questioning. “So who came up with the idea to take suppressors in the first place?”

Waylon eyes him warily. Trager picks up on the distrustful look Waylon is giving him. “This is simply for my files, everything you say in these interviews is simply for our knowledge—only to be used in your treatment. This will in no way be utilized in future court proceedings.”

Waylon huffs and looks at the mirror again, once more looking in Eddie’s direction. Eddie feels a jolt of excitement hit him when Waylon once again finds his eyes through the glass. “It was Mile's idea.” Waylon murmurs. “But I was the one who asked him to get more after the first bottle.” He quickly adds. 

Trager nods. “And your parents didn’t know that you were taking suppressors, correct?”

“Nope.” Waylon says, popping the _p_. “They didn’t have a clue until after I left town.” His lips are upturned in a smug smile.

“Right, and how old were you when you and Miles left together?”

“We were seventeen.” 

Trager raises an eyebrow and whistles. “That’s awful young to be leaving home, don’t you think? What made you so desperate to leave so soon?”

Eddie watches as Waylon’s eyes narrow. For an omega, he almost looks dangerous like that. He scoots forward in his seat, trying to take in every aspect of Waylon’s glowering face. 

Waylon chews his lip for a moment, glaring at his hands gripping his pants. Eddie thinks that Waylon is going to start stonewalling Trager here, but his ears perk up when he hears Waylon grumble back a reply. 

“They didn’t understand anything. They still don’t.” Waylon furiously scrubs his sleeve across his face in an attempt to dry his misty eyes. 

“Must be a sensitive subject for him.” A doctor in the observation room speaks up while scribbling down some notes.

“Well I don't blame him. The guy’s parents are the ones who turned him in to the authorities after they finally tracked him down.” Another doctor responds. Eddie shakes his head. He’s not sure what he finds more heartbreaking—the family’s obviously dysfunctional dynamics, or the omega’s tears.

Trager’s lips twist into an empathetic frown. “What exactly do they not understand?” 

Waylon’s heated stare meets Trager. “Me. Everything. This whole dystopian omega bullshit. They never cared for any rules concerning omega-alpha dynamics—they’re both betas for Christ’s sake, but as soon as they start to have an inkling that their son is an omega, then they decide to actually give a fuck.” 

Some of the doctors in observation room audibly gasp. Eddie has to keep himself from chuckling. It has always been extremely uncommon for omegas to be so outspoken and crass. Typically, omegas are docile and gentle by nature, or at least socialized to be. This guy had some spunk, and Eddie found himself appreciating the breath of fresh air. 

Trager barks out a laugh in the other room. “ _Dystopian omega bullshit_ —I’ve never heard it referred to by that before. Please, explain what you mean by that.”

Waylon glares at Trager for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Where do I even begin? Perhaps with the fact that omegas are now second class citizens? That we’ve now made it illegal for omegas to pursue secondary education? To have fucking careers?”

Trager hums before interjecting. “Not all careers, just some of the ones that society deems omegas to be unfit to pursue due to health or safety reasons.”

Waylon actually snarls. “Great, so they can either decide to teach preschoolers or stay at home all day. Fucking amazing options.”

Trager chuckles and puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying they’re great options for every omega, just that those are the options that society has dictated for them.” Waylon sits back on the couch and crosses his arms. “Look,” Trager starts, “I don’t necessarily agree with all the limitations that are forced upon omegas, but it’s what society decided. I can’t argue with that, but I can help you acclimate and find happiness within the parameters delineated by society.”

Waylon sinks further into his seat. “I don’t need to acclimate. I just need you people to leave me alone.” Eddie thinks that he looks like a grumpy teenager in this moment—sulking and pouting over some imagined injustice. While Eddie did agree that omegas should be granted more liberties and freedom in society, he still firmly believed that omegas needed to be taken care of and kept safe first and foremost. The population was in a steady decline. Besides that, omegas were generally the weakest, and since they were becoming more and more rare, betas and alphas often acted unpredictably around them. The government had quickly stepped in to pass harsher legislation for physical and sexual violence towards omegas. 

“Sorry buddy, but I can’t do that. An omega masquerading as a beta is a federal crime. However, your circumstance is rare since you’ve never actually had a heat, and thus never had the opportunity to exhibit your secondary gender. You’re lucky that the government sentenced you to psychiatric care rather than prison time.”

Waylon scoffs. “I would prefer prison to this…”

“And what makes you say that?” Trager’s head tips to the side as he gives Waylon a curious glance.

Waylon throws his arms in the air. “Because living like an omega is worse than fucking prison! You don’t get to decide anything for yourself—you’re locked away and bred like livestock! You’re essentially someone else’s property! I’d rather go to prison and retain some sense of autonomy.”

Trager taps his pen to his chin thoughtfully. “You know, most omegas that leave our clinic report that their well-being has increased substantially after ending therapy with us. They find comfort and a deep sense of security within a loving alpha, and fulfillment in having and raising children. Across the board, omegas that are able to acclimate to society lead extremely happy lives.” 

Waylon shakes his head. “Are they actually happy, or they just accepting that that’s the best deal that they’re going to get out of life? There’s a big fucking difference between living the life you want to lead and accepting that you’ve been dealt a shitty hand at birth.”

“Do you feel like you’ve been dealt a shitty hand, Waylon?”

Waylon stares at Trager like he’s just asked the dumbest question possible. “What do you think? I’m only twenty seven years old, and I’m about to be forced to learn how to roll over and let someone dictate the rest of my life for me.”

Trager sighs. Eddie bites his lip. This isn’t going to be an easy case at all. Waylon is obviously harboring a broad misunderstanding of the life of an omega. Sure, omegas might not have all the same rights as alphas and betas, but they are the most cherished and celebrated members of society. As an alpha, Eddie views omegas to be the most wonderful creatures to ever bless the earth. Clearly, Waylon has internalized a lot of the anti-omega-alpha propaganda that was popular fifteen years ago, before the government snuffed it out. The kind of stuff that protested the coupling of alphas and omegas due to the idea that alphas were over-controlling, and at times, abusive. Trager certainly has his work cut out for him. 

“What if I told you,” Trager starts thoughtfully, “that you won’t be taught to mindlessly submit to your alpha? I think it’s a huge misconception that most people hold concerning alphas. In reality, most omegas are actually the ones with the real power in the relationship.” Trager chuckles at this as Waylon stares at him incredulously. Trager continues. “I’m serious. Most alphas would do anything for their omegas—their lives revolve around them. Don’t you think that entitles omegas certain advantages? Here at Mount Massive we don’t teach omegas to “roll over and let someone dictate the rest of their life” as you so eloquently put it, but rather how to enter into a loving and caring relationship with an alpha.”

Waylon raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “So, you’re telling me that nobody is ever going to tell me to submit to my alpha here? Not once?”

Trager shrugs sheepishly. “Well, maybe a little.” Trager chuckles as Waylon throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “Calm down, buddy. Let me explain. Since submitting to one’s alpha is innate in omegas, we simply work on skills concerning this trait—coping skills if you will. Expanding your mind. Omegas are meant to submit to alphas because alphas are meant to take care of their omegas. Simple as that. With cases like yours, we simply work towards gaining an understanding of this concept. I know it seems farfetched, or maybe even impossible, but one day when you’re living happily with your assigned alpha we’ve given you, you’ll be so thankful that you were forced into this program.” 

Waylon’s eyes widen and his body goes rigid. He instantly looks alarmed and on edge. “What? What do you mean _assigned alpha_? I thought this was just some fucked up form of conversion therapy or whatever.”

Trager winces. “We like to think of it as omega rehabilitation. But anyway, you’re well aware of the fact that you’re over the age limit in which omegas develop their bond marks with their alpha. After an omega reaches twenty-five years of age without acquiring a bond mark, it’s typically assumed that their bond-mate is dead, or that they simply don’t have a natural bond-mate. This is when they’re typically matched with a suitable alpha. Since our program is government funded, we work on that process here in conjunction with therapy.” 

Waylon goes white. And then green. Several of the doctors gasp as they watch Waylon jump up from the couch, stumble over to the trash can next to the door, and empty the contents of his stomach into it. Eddie’s feels a deep pain in his chest for the poor omega. He must be under so much stress right now, and the poor boy is terrified due to all the falsehoods he’s been forced to swallow concerning being an omega. 

Trager stands next to Waylon and rubs soothing circles onto his back. He looks to the two-way mirror and slides a hand in front of his throat, indicating that they should cut the interview short.

Waylon continues to retch into the garbage can as the rest of the doctors get up. “Well, this ought to be interesting. That kid seems hopeless.” A doctor chuckles as he rises out of his seat and collects his papers.

“Yeah, but if anyone can help him, it’s Trager. Guy’s a miracle worker. I bet he’ll have this guy happily bonded with his alpha in three months.” 

“I don’t know about that. This kid has been pretending to be a beta for the last ten years. He’s got a lot of work ahead of himself if he’s ever going to acclimate to life as an omega. And did you hear the mouth he had? Good luck finding an alpha that’s going to want such a lippy omega.” 

The rest of the doctors begin clearing out of the room. Eddie stays in his seat, eyes fixed on Waylon, who is sitting on the couch once more. He’s sitting with his face in his hands, sobbing as Trager mutters calming words to him. 

“Eddie, you coming? Don’t think there’s going to be much more to see here. The patient’s a mess.” A doctor asks, taking one last measured look at Waylon through the glass. 

“Oh. Yes.” Eddie is pulled out of his trance. He gathers up his notes and papers and stands up. He gives one more glance at the omega in the other room before deciding that he’d do anything in his power to help Trager with this case. It is a very unique situation, and it wasn’t fair to the omega, or the omega’s alpha for that matter, that the omega’s mind had been poisoned with such horrible fictions concerning alphas. Waylon would be rehabilitated, Eddie would make sure of it. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a full week later until Eddie sees Waylon again. Eddie is speeding through the hallways attempting to get his rounds completed as quickly as he can so he can swing by Trager’s office before he leaves town for a business trip. Eddie wants to know where the new omega has gone, as Eddie hasn’t seen his name signed up for any group therapy sessions or activities in the recreation room.  
Eddie turns the corner and bumps into Waylon, sending him flying to the ground and landing squarely on his behind. Eddie’s eyes widen and he quickly scrambles to apologize and help Waylon up. “I am _so_ sorry! I should have been paying more attention to where I was going—I shouldn’t be racing through the hallways like this.” 

Waylon allows Eddie to haul him to his feet. Once he is standing on solid ground again he takes a moment to really look at Eddie. The man is tall—at least three heads taller than Waylon, and the man looks like he’s nothing but solid muscle. His raven-black hair is lightly gelled back, and his suit and lab coat look like they’ve been neatly pressed with an iron, sporting crisp lines. The man looks like the modern day definition of an alpha. Waylon unconsciously sniffs the air. His legs begin to wobble as he is instantly overcome with the smell and oak, cedar wood, and a slight hint of smoke. He doesn’t even realize he is falling again until strong arms reach out and firmly grab his waist. 

Waylon gives Eddie a sheepish smile as Eddie holds Waylon steady. “My turn to apologize. I’ve been off my suppressors for a week now, and I’m not taking the change very well. This is my first time smelling an alpha’s scent without them.” 

Eddie smiles slightly, nodding as he releases his hands from Waylon once he’s confident that Waylon can stand up on his own. “Not a problem. I’m sure it will take some time to get used to.”

Waylon scratches at his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, I didn’t really expect to run into any alphas in the omega ward. So far all my doctors have been betas.”

“Yeah, I think I might be the only alpha omega-specialist. I’m sorry if I surprised you.” Eddie gives Waylon a bemused smirk as he notices Waylon sniffing the air one more time, as if he’s testing the waters to see if he’ll have the same reaction again.

Waylon continues to sniff the air and blushes when he notices Eddie watching him. “Is this weird? I’m being weird right now, aren’t I?” Waylon cringes. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this. Something about how you smell just seems so… Familiar. But I never noticed people’s scents before when I was on my blockers, so I don’t know why you’d be…” Waylon trails off, cheeks red in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie chuckles. “It’s the first time you’re noticing scents—you’re basically discovering a sense that you’ve gone without for your whole life. It’s no wonder that you’re intrigued. And it’s not like your typical beta doctors have distinct scents.”

Waylon nods as he absorbs the information. “Yeah.” Waylon bites his lip before asking, “Not sure if this is rude to ask, but how did an alpha end up in this line of work anyway?” 

Eddie’s grin grows. “You mean working with omegas?” Waylon nods. “I was originally studying to be an alpha specialist, but the more I learned about omegas along the way, the more intrigued I became. I think there is still much to learn about omegas, and I believe additional research concerning the innate nature of omegas outside of how they’ve been socialized to behave could greatly benefit society. I know that that’s not a widely held opinion, but I think it’s important to integrate different approaches in therapy. Besides, being the only alpha in the field, I never let a little adversity stop me.” 

Waylon’s face brightens. “No shit? Really? That’s actually really cool. I didn’t think that there’d be any doctors here that are interested in anything outside of _changing_ omegas’ behavior.” 

“Eddie! Waylon!” The pair glances towards the end of the hallway to see Trager waving at them as he approaches them. “Just the two people I was looking for. Good, I see you two have already met.”

“Yes and no.” Eddie says as he looks back to Waylon and holds out his hand. “My name is Eddie Gluskin, and it’s nice to finally meet you.” 

Waylon grasps his hand and gives it a firm shake. Eddie’ eyes widen slightly for a moment, both surprised and impressed by Waylon’s strong grip. “My name is Waylon Park, but uh, you probably knew that already.” 

“Yes, you are quite the infamous patient around here, Waylon.” Trager states. “I’ve been meaning to have you two meet for a while now. Now that you’re out of the infirmary, I’d like to flesh out some time for you and Eddie to spend with one another.” 

Waylon’s lips form a thin line and he glances curiously between Eddie and Trager. Trager, sensing Waylon’s confusion, continues, “I think that you two could really benefit each other. Eddie is currently working on research concerning atypical omegan behavior. And Waylon, spending time with an alpha and taking time to understand the intricacies of alpha behavior can only expedite your rehabilitation, especially with Eddie—he’s one of our top doctors at Mount Massive. Hell, at the very least you two will enjoy talking ideology with each other.” 

“Sure, sounds wonderful to me.” Eddie answers, directing a blinding smile at Waylon. 

Waylon nods in return. “Why not.”

Trager claps his hands together and grins. “Excellent! Okay then, I’ll pencil in some time for you two to meet with each other each week, but in the meantime…” Trager starts rummaging through his satchel hanging from his shoulder and pulls out a thick stack of papers, handing them to Waylon. 

Waylon’s eyes glance at the papers in his hand and then travel back to Trager. Waylon raises an eyebrow as he asks, “What is this?”

“This, buddy,” Trager starts, “is your schedule for the next week. You’ll be pretty busy between classes, group therapy, and individual therapy.”

Waylon starts flipping through the pile of papers. His eyes widen and then slowly narrow. He lifts his head and glares at Trager. “The fuck is omegan etiquette class?”

Trager shrugs slightly, lips starting to curl upwards. “Who knows, but doesn’t it sound like fun?”

Waylon’s eyes narrow into tiny slits. Trager chuckles, but Eddie begins tap his foot on the ground, suddenly starting to feel slightly anxious as he watches Waylon return his attention back to the schedule. He’s hoping that Trager had sense enough to withhold Waylon from at least some of the omega rehabilitation courses that they offer. 

“Why the fuck would I have to take cooking classes here?” Waylon growls out as his eyes continue searching the page. “And goddamnit, is that—there’s fucking home ec. on here!?”

Waylon’s head snaps up from the schedule in his hands. His eyebrows are drawn down and his lips form a thin line as he glares daggers at both Eddie and Trager. Waylon brings his hands holding the papers in front of his chest, until his arms are fully extended, and then promptly drops the stack of papers. Some of the papers scatter throughout the hallway, but most of the heavy stack falls to the ground with a plop. Eddie stares down at the pile of papers on the floor and then looks up to see Waylon’s retreating form, middle finger raised high in the air as he walks down the hallway and turns the corner. 

“Well,” Trager turns to Eddie, sporting the largest smirk that Eddie has ever seen. “That’s Waylon for you.”

Eddie shakes his head as he bends over to pick up the papers littered across the ground. “The other doctors were right—you have your work cut out for you here, Trager.”

Eddie feels a hand rest on his shoulder and looks up to see Trager smiling, genuinely smiling, ear to ear. “I think you mean _we_ have our work cut out for us, Eddie. You’re going to be my wildcard here.”

Eddie continues picking up the papers. He glances at the some of the other activities on the schedule for Waylon. Art therapy, omegan charm, child-rearing, yoga, self-defense, the art of feng shui—Trager really did just sign Waylon up for everything. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that you’re going to be key in winning Waylon over. I know that if we try to make him come to his senses through the typical avenues here that he’ll just end up resenting us—resenting alphas in general, too. So, I’m going to use the best weapon in our arsenal—an unassuming, compassionate, and generally progressive alpha.”

“Gee, thanks.” 

Eddie stands up with the stack of papers in hand and gives them back to Trager. “So if that’s your plan, then why did you sign him up for every course and elective that we offer? You had to know he wouldn’t tolerate most of those at this point.”

“Because sometimes he’s just fun to piss off.” Trager says as he closes his eyes and smiles sweetly. “Later big guy, I’ve got an angry omega to wrangle.” Trager starts walking down the hallway following after Waylon, waving his hand without turning around to look at Eddie. 

Eddie watches him go, and sighs as he contemplates his role in Waylon’s recovery. On one hand, he is motivated to see Waylon recover. He has a special place in his heart for omegas that don’t fit the mold, so to speak. And he definitely wouldn’t mind spending more time with Waylon, as he seems like a very unique individual. However, on the other hand, he hates being used in Trager’s schemes. It ticks him off even more when Trager’s schemes end up working out, which they almost always do. The man is a genius, part of the reason why Eddie chose Mount Massive for his residency all those years ago. Eddie supposes that he can help Trager out though, as it benefits him in the long run, after all. He might get some great information from Waylon about atypical omegas for his book he’s planning to publish. And he also doesn’t mind hanging around Waylon, especially with that sweet bubble gum smell that Waylon has hanging around him. No, Eddie decides it’s not that big of deal to help Trager out just this once.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a few parts to this chapter that I had been putting off writing, but I read through your reviews the other day and that was enough to motivate me to finish it. So thanks for that! Sorry for the long wait!

Eddie and Waylon spend a lot of time together during Waylon’s first two months at Mount Massive. Trager was right, Waylon appreciates talking to Eddie about his thoughts on omegas and alphas, and even enjoys their near constant debates. While the pair both strongly believes in omegan rights, Eddie isn’t near as progressive in his beliefs concerning omegas as Waylon is. While Eddie admits that he believes omegas are socialized to act in certain ways, he also believes that omegas are fundamentally different from betas and alphas—more fragile, more caring, gentle. Waylon vehemently disagrees.  


“So let me see if I have this straight…” Waylon smirks and rolls his at Eddie. “You believe that omegas should be allowed to pursue secondary education, but only as long as they are segregated to separate universities?” Waylon raises a challenging eyebrow at Eddie from across the large table. They’re in the same therapy room that they always meet in. It’s a little too modern for Waylon’s tastes—with it’s sleek chairs and tall, metal table. It feels a little cold, too sterile.

Eddie growls lightly. “Well when you say it like that anything will sound farfetched. I simply believe that omegas should be afforded the same advantages as the other genders, and that includes the right to safety while pursuing higher education. One of the main reasons why omegas were refused college was due to the extremely high rate of sexual harassment and the abuse that they experienced. I’m just being realistic here—the government isn’t going to be able to reign in this behavior from all betas and alphas—it’s just not feasible.” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest as he continues. “Besides, setting up omegan universities gives a chance for omega professors to seek work once again. The entire staff could be omegan—think of all the jobs that this could create.” 

Waylon bobs his head back and forth as he considers the idea. “I mean, creating more jobs for omegas, especially in higher education, would definitely be a benefit. But don’t you feel like you’re letting the alphas and betas off the hook a little too easily? Maybe instead of drastically changing the system to give omegas their own education system we could drastically change the system to teach betas and alphas to actually fucking respect omegas? Why is that too much to ask for?”

Eddie sighs. “It’s not a matter of respect, Waylon. It all comes down to biological impulses—how betas and alphas are _wired_. And omegas, too. Allowing a bunch of unbonded omegas to comingle and live with betas and alphas, while they’re in their most hormonal stage of life, might I add, is simply asking for trouble. We could perform as many public service announcements as possible, pass new legislation even, but we can’t change the biological prerogative that alphas were born with. I wish it was that simple, but it’s not.” 

Waylon is glaring at Eddie, but Eddie knows him well enough to know that he’s not mad—not _really_. “Ok, smart guy, answer me this then—how come I had no problem going against my biological prerogative then?” 

Eddie sucks on the inside of his cheek for a moment as he considers his answer. Eddie and Waylon frequently get into heated arguments about Waylon’s time masquerading as a beta by going on supressors—it’s one of the few serous points of contention in their newly developed friendship, and Eddie knows that if he speaks truthfully that he might genuinely anger Waylon. So, Eddie holds his tongue and doesn’t even acknowledge that Miles had screwed Waylon over by giving him those suppressors for all those years. He doesn’t mention the fact that an omega’s nature and drive will _never_ be natural to Waylon. Not anymore. But, with a lot of therapy and work Waylon will at least be able to acclimate and accept his life as an omega. 

Waylon starts tapping his foot, an attempt to communicate to Eddie that he is running out of patience awaiting Eddie’s answer. “You, sir, are a very unique case. We do not examine anomalies when analyzing trends.” Eddie finally answers. 

Waylon _pffts_ and rolls his eyes again. “That’s a cop out answer if I’ve ever heard one before.”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, what made you so interested in alpha-omega dynamics anyway?” Waylon glances at Eddie curiously as he fidgets with the yarn unraveling across the surface of the metal table. Eddie is currently teaching Waylon how to crochet. While Waylon is typically a quick learner, he’s well aware that he’s rotten with a crochet hook. 

“Hmm? Uh, I suppose that watching my parents left me with a lot of questions regarding how alphas and omegas are supposed to respond to each other.” Eddie continues artfully twisting and pulling the crochet hooks past each other.

Waylon cocks his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“My father was an alpha, and my mother was a beta. It didn’t work out. I wanted to understand why.” Eddie answers, his tongue periodically sticking out of his mouth as he concentrates on his handiwork. 

Waylon frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that… That must have been hard for a kid to watch happen.” 

“Don’t apologize. If anything, I’m lucky it happened, as it brought me to where I am today. Besides, anyone could have seen that those two weren’t right for each other. Very rarely can a beta and an alpha work as a decent match.” Eddie still hasn’t looked up to meet Waylon’s eyes, he simply continues concentrating on his crocheting. 

Waylon’s frown deepens. He picks up his crochet hooks and starts wrapping the yarn around one. “Why do you always say shit like that? You act like your secondary gender decides everything for you.”  


Eddie finally looks up at Waylon. “Because, Waylon, it does. Whether implicitly or otherwise, one’s secondary gender affects behavior, cognitive processes, reproductive drive, sexual preferences—need I go on?”

Waylon wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, but you admit that a lot of that is simply how people are socialized, right?”

“Some of it, of course, but not all of it. I could show you a great number of studies that analyze brain scans of feral children of both omegan and alpha variety. Without exception, every study demonstrates that there are some innate differences in how omegan and alpha brains operate. And of course, behavior is a product of both socialization and cognitive functioning.”

Waylon huffs. He doesn’t have anything that can top feral children. He doesn’t have studies or any research to support his claim, just experience. 

“Waylon, are you paying attention?” Eddie looks at Waylon sharply and playfully bops Waylon on the nose with one of his crochet hooks. 

Waylon reaches to grab the hook out of Eddie’s hand, but Eddie quickly pulls it away. “Gimme that!” Waylon gripes. “Why do I even have to learn how to do this? I was fine with arts and crafts.”

“First of all, it’s called art therapy, Waylon.” Eddie grumbles. “And secondly, you were inhibiting the other patients’ progress. That’s why Trager asked if I could hold some private art therapy sessions with you.” 

“Wait, seriously? I was? Like Trager told you that?” Waylon asks, devious eyes alit with excitement. Eddie’s eyes narrow as he slowly nods his head. “Cool.” 

“Waylon…” Eddie grits out warningly through clenched teeth. 

Waylon looks up at Eddie with wide, doe-like eyes. He even has gall to bat his eyelashes. “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, Eddie.” 

Eddie stares at him a moment before sighing. He’s not sure what’s worse—the fact that Waylon has started paying attention in his omegan behavior lessons and is using the information for nefarious purposes, or the fact that he is pulling it out during therapy sessions to play around with Eddie. Eddie shakes his head as he tries to ignore Waylon’s beautiful, large eyes. “No you’re not. And wipe that look off your face, you’re far from innocent here.”

Waylon’s innocent facade breaks into laughter. “Yeah, you’re right, I’m just fucking with you.” Eddie takes another deep breath. Waylon can see him internally counting to ten. He’s heard from Trager that Eddie does that when he’s frustrated with his clients. Especially with Waylon. Ok, the whole counting thing occurs exclusively with Waylon. “Anywaaaay,” Waylon starts, “back to your mom and dad. What makes you think that they were so incompatible? Besides the fact that they split.”

Eddie eyes Waylon skeptically a moment before answering. “Well, for starters, my dad was extremely aggressive. An omega might have been able to soothe him, but my mom had no idea what to do. She just spat it right back at him, and the situation would escalate. It’s not her fault, but my dad was built to be with an omega.” Eddie pauses. “I think my mom could have chosen anyone and probably made it work, anyone but my dad, but that’s who she chose.”

“I guess you can’t really choose who you fall in love with, you know?” Waylon shrugs and begins fiddling with the crochet hooks in front of him. Eddie nods as he watches Waylon carefully. 

“I think that’s the hardest part about not receiving a bond mark. For me, anyway. I had always dreamed that I’d get one one day and then I’d just know… I’d know that any problems we ran into we could always work out, because we were meant to be together.” Eddie sighs. “Saying it now, it sounds rather lazy, doesn’t it? Like I just want the guess-work to be taken out of my life concerning relationships. But…” Eddie pauses and bites his lip. “I had always hoped that one day I’d find the type of love that I had always wished my parents had. That I’d be able to experience that for a little bit of my life.” 

Waylon looks up at Eddie, watching him with a small frown and round, empathetic eyes. “I’m sorry, Eddie. If anyone deserves to receive a bond mark, it’s you. I know that you would try your hardest to be whatever your bond-mate needs.” Waylon’s words make Eddie blush slightly, which makes Waylon grin. “But screw bond marks! I know that you would work hard to make the partner of your choice as happy as can be, too.”

Eddie is still smiling fondly at Waylon as he shakes his head. “No” Eddie says slowly, “I made a promise to myself and my bond mate to wait. I’m still holding onto hope that I might have one somewhere. I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed myself to fall in love with someone else and then suddenly received my bond mark.” Eddie considers his words. He feels like a hypocrite. He had promised himself he wouldn’t fall in love with anyone except for his bond mate; yet, here he is, baring his soul for someone, and a patient no less. He wondered how obvious it was to the other doctors that he was developing feelings for Waylon. Did Trager know? More importantly, did Waylon know? 

Eddie watches Waylon’s dazed expression. He looks like he’s lost in thought. Eddie gives him a light nudge, which makes Waylon jump and glare at Eddie. “What?” 

“Nothing. You just looked like you had a lot on your mind all of a sudden.” Eddie shrugs.

“I was just thinking, y’know, about how crazy different our situations are. It seems like you were always really looking forward to receiving your bond-mark. And I… I don’t know if I could ever handle getting one. Maybe if I was an alpha I could, but as an omega…” Waylon shakes his head.

Eddie realizes that this is a perfect time to jump in and actually counsel poor Waylon. He had built a firm therapeutic relationship with him, and now is the time to guide Waylon to the truth. “I think you would be surprised by how much you would like having a bond mate, Waylon. I think you’d enjoy having a best friend that you share everything with—someone who is always looking out for you.”

Waylon blanches. “Yeah, if we were equals, of course. But that’s not how it goes for omega-alpha couples.” 

“Okay Waylon, you seem very hung up on the idea that omegas and alphas can’t be equals in today’s society, why is that?”

Waylon levels Eddie with a deadpan stare. “Eddie. Come on. How the hell are omegas and alphas supposed to be equal in today’s society when the foundation of society is built on the principle that omegas are supposed to belong to alphas? Seriously?”

“Just because one gender belongs to the other doesn’t necessarily make them lesser. Both omegas and alphas have their own strengths and weaknesses—they’re supposed to balance each other out. Furthermore, one could argue that alphas belong to omegas as well.” Eddie reasons.

“Really? Then why the fuck do omegas have so many fewer rights than alphas? Hmm? How the fuck are omegas supposed to feel equal in a relationship with a partner when that partner has so much more power than they do?”

This. This is when Eddie and Waylon start to bump heads. They can talk about societal issues concerning alphas and omegas and still get along, hell, they can even talk about how many laws and policies regarding omegas are built off of faulty assumptions, but as soon as they talk about relationships between alphas and omegas… Well, the rest of their therapy session is usually fairly short. 

“Because alphas are inclined to take care of their omegas, they would never abuse the privileges they have. Alphas have a biological impulse to make sure that their omegas are safe and happy—“

“Yeah, happy locked away at home.” Waylon sneers. Eddie growls low in his throat. He can feel his body heat up, his teeth starting to grind together. He thinks sometimes that Waylon brings out his best abilities as a therapist, but at times like this he doesn’t feel like a therapist at all. He’s never lost his composure with the other patients—would never let another patient rile him up like Waylon is so very skilled at doing. 

Eddie places his croquet hooks on the table and drags his nails on the surface in an attempt to ground himself. “Actually, Waylon, most omegas feel more fulfilled and happy after finding their bond mate. As you know, omegas are not “locked away at home” against their wills. You always have alphas painted as monsters in your head, but in modern society bond mates—“ 

Waylon’s chair tips over as he jumps to his feet, his hands slamming down on the table, the plastic croquet hooks rattling loudly against the surface of the table. “You don’t get to tell me shit about omegas or bond mates.” Waylon’s voice is deathly quiet and his eyes narrow as he continues speaking through clenched teeth. “You’re a fucking alpha—you don’t understand what it’s like to have society tell you you’re _less_ than your counterpart, or that you need to _depend_ on someone else. You don’t understand what it’s like to be told that you’re only worth the happiness that you bring your partner, or the number of offspring you’re able to have. So don’t try to fucking persuade me with your bullshit facts and studies anymore, Eddie, because I’ve fucking _experienced_ what I’m talking about.” 

Waylon spins around on his heels and stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Eddie is left in the small room with two balls of yarn and two crochet hooks on the table.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie walks around with a stomach ache for the next two days, constantly searching the halls for Waylon. He feels horrible about how his last discussion with Waylon went, but he can never seem to chart off time in Waylon’s schedule to sit him down and try to apologize. Waylon has been a _model_ patient after their fight. He sits in group therapy and attentively listens while the other patients share their feelings and experiences. He participates in the exercise and recreational courses, and he doesn’t even put up a fuss when it comes time for omegan etiquette, he just sits there quietly for the full hour. Eddie supposes that maybe Waylon actually did take some part of his conversation to heart. Or at least, he believes that until Trager comes into his office to complain. 

“Eddiieee, I think I made a mistake with Waylon. I need you to be a pal and help me out here.” Trager sits on Eddie’s desk and whines with a scrunched up, sour looking face. 

Eddie looks up from the document he’s signing and stares at Trager. “Excuse me? What?”

Trager crosses his arms over his chest and juts out his bottom lip in a dramatic pout. “You heard me. I messed up.” Trager huffs before continuing on. “I was contacted by Mile’s lawyer the other day. He told me that if we can give the court some evidence that Waylon can actually be rehabilitated and enter into a successful relationship with an alpha, that the court will be lenient with Miles’ sentencing. I passed this on to Waylon.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. This is huge news—everyone was expecting the court to come down on Miles with the full power of the law. Of course this would be a big motivator for Waylon to actually put some effort forth in his recovery. “And?” Eddie asks expectantly.

“And you’ve seen how he’s been acting the last few days—the kid’s turned into a zombie. He’s behaving and going through the motions, but there’s never going to be any honest change for him if he keeps shutting himself off like that.” Trager pauses and adds, “He’s actually starting to kind of freak me out.” 

Eddie nods. He understands what Trager means. At first, Eddie felt horrible because of his fight with Waylon, but after watching Waylon walk around like he’s half dead for the past two days—well, he was already starting to mourn the old Waylon. “He has seemed extremely off recently. Have you tried explaining that how he’s acting isn’t the way to help Miles?” 

Trager rolls his eyes at Eddie. “Of course I have! I told him that I didn’t consider how he was composing himself as progress, and I wouldn’t tell the court that I thought it was. He just got frustrated with me.” Trager fiddles with the glass paper weight on Eddie’s desk, rolling it around in his hands, and sighs. “I honestly don’t think he understands how to move forward. I can tell he’s trying, but it’s like he’s stuck or something.” 

Eddie hums in thought. Waylon did appear to be stuck. He’s glad he’s not the only one who doesn’t know what to do with Waylon anymore. “Well, what would you have me do about it?”  


Trager’s forlorn expression vanishes, quickly twisting into a grin, eyes twinkling in delight. “I always knew you were a team player, Eddie-boy! I knew I was right in choosing you as my wild card in Waylon’s therapy.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at Trager. “Wild card? Really, this again?”

Trager aggressively nods his head. “That’s right. I’m well aware that your therapeutic situation that you’ve found yourself in Waylon is a little…” Trager bobs his head and looks to the ceiling, as if the words he is searching for may be there.

“Unorthodox.” Eddie supplies helpfully.

Trager barks out a laugh. “I was gonna say fucked up, but unorthodox works too.” 

“If you feel that our therapeutic relationship has gotten so out of hand, then why didn’t you say something earlier?” Eddie grumbles out. 

“Meh. It seemed to be working. It _is_ working. We just ran into a road block is all.” A smile tugs on Trager’s lips as he shrugs. “Besides, we’ve never had a patient like Waylon before. This is new territory we’re undertaking here, so that requires thinking outside of the box. Can you imagine what would happen if we treated Waylon like all our other patients?” Trager grimaces. “It’d be a shit show. The little fuck would walk all over us.” 

Eddie fights a smirk. Trager is right—as strange as his current methods seem sometimes—Waylon would not respond to their typical approach well. Still, his confidence is bolstered by Trager’s encouraging words, and he finds himself feeling hopeful once again about Waylon’s recovery. “I don’t disagree with you.” Eddie folds his hands together and leans on his desk, asking once again, “So what do you want me to do?”

Trager is grinning even more enthusiastically. “Here’s the thing—Waylon is struggling after the little spat the two of you had.” Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but Trager barrels on, “Don’t try to deny it, Eddie, I’m an expert on human psychology for a reason. It doesn’t matter, while this fight was originally an issue, a wrench in my beautiful plan, now the ball’s in our court, and turns out we have the advantage.” 

Eddie stares at Trager in disbelief. “How exactly is this advantageous for us?”

Trager throws his hands up in the air and huffs out in frustration. “Because the kid needs you now more than ever! He’s temporarily alienated himself from his sole form of support he has here, that toppled with the stress he’s holding on to over hearing that his friend’s sentencing is directly tied to his recovery have pushed him up against a wall. He knows he needs to move forward, but clearly he’s not equipped to do so alone, so…” 

Eddie quickly understands what Trager is insinuating. Now is the perfect time to repair his relationship with Waylon—Waylon is desperate for it— _needs_ some form of support. He’s not dealing with the stress of recent events well. Now Waylon’s whole zombie act makes a lot of sense. Waylon must also be aware of how much he has come to rely on Eddie during his time at the clinic, and will certainly be a lot more apt to amend things with Eddie. He’ll probably even be more likely to be receptive to the things Eddie is trying to teach him. If not to show the courts that he is recovering for Mile’s sake, but to avoid a feud with Eddie and possibly losing his support system again. He shudders, suddenly understanding the full extent of Trager’s plan, and feeling extremely dirty about using such underhanded tactics with Waylon.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie catches Waylon in the hallway a few days later. Their eyes meet and lock for a few seconds, before Waylon abruptly turns around and starts speeding down the hallway in the opposite directions. Eddie starts jogging after him, shouting, “Waylon, wait a moment, please!”

Waylon turns around and levels Eddie with an annoyed stare. Eddie approaches Waylon, stopping a few feet short in an attempt to give Waylon some physical space. The last thing he needs is to come across as an overbearing alpha. He clears his throat and says, “I just wanted to say… I’m really sorry about our last conversation. You’re right, I have no idea what it’s like to live as an omega…” Eddie watches Waylon’s head fly backwards, as if he were slapped. Watching Waylon’s shocked expression gives Eddie the confidence to continue. “However, I would love to learn. If you wouldn’t mind spending the time explaining it to me?” 

Waylon stares at Eddie for a long moment, eyes wide in pure bewilderment. “Y-Yeah. I mean, of course.” Eddie feels himself breath out a sigh of relief. Waylon turns his head slightly and eyes him skeptically. “Are you serious right now, Eddie?”

Eddie tries to ignore the small pang in his chest over the distrustful look Waylon is currently sending his way. Instead, he nods earnestly. “Very much so. I’ve realized that this should go both ways, right?” He gestures between himself and Waylon. “I have just as much to learn from you as you do from me. I’m sorry for ignoring that fact.” 

Waylon stares at Eddie until his bottom lip starts to tremble. He races forward and throws himself against Eddie’s chest. Eddie is shocked, taking a moment to recover from his shock over Waylon actually _hugging_ him. He quickly remembers himself and brings one arm around Waylon’s shoulders and his other hand to gently pat Waylon’s head. 

Waylon’s floodgates have opened up. Eddie can feel his chest becoming damp with snot and tears. The sound of Waylon wheezing to catch his breath between his giant sobs breaks Eddie’s heart, but he can’t deny that something about this feels _right_. Eddie would never want to see Waylon cry, but he can’t help but admit that the feeling of Waylon in his arms, the way their bodies slot together just right, with Waylon’s head ducked under his chin and fitted so perfectly in his chest, feels absolutely _perfect_. 

Eddie waits a couple long minutes, continues patting Waylon’s head and rubbing his back, before Waylon mumbles something into his chest. “I’m sorry, too.”

Eddie considers asking Waylon to repeat himself, so uncertain of the words he just heard Waylon say, but Waylon echoes his previous words again. “I’m sorry that I was such a jerk. You’re the only one in here that actually cares about what happens to me, and I freaking chewed you out like you were some random orderly.”

Eddie swallows thickly, uncertain of how to respond. This is the first time that Waylon has ever broached the subject of his relationship with Eddie. It shocks Eddie, slightly, to hear that Waylon is aware of how highly Eddie prioritizes his recovery. 

“It’s alright.” Eddie starts off slowly. “We both could have handled that situation better. This just goes to show that there are growing pains in a therapeutic relationship as well.” Eddie coughs to clear his throat here, praying that Waylon will resist commenting on how oftentimes, especially in the current moment, their relationship doesn’t seem very therapeutic at all. Instead, Waylon just nods. 

Waylon gives Eddie a big squeeze before detangling himself from Eddie’s arms. He wipes his eyes with the palm of his hand before shaking his head, chuckling. “Man, you don’t know how badly I wanted to say that to you the past days, but every time I saw you I just got so freaked out that you were going to tell me that you're referring me to someone else.”

Eddie can feel his heartbeat pick up, but he tries to appear affronted by the very idea that he would ever let another therapist take on Waylon. And, of course, he _is_. “Waylon, I would never. I wanted to give you space. You seemed like you wanted to invest yourself more in courses here, and I didn’t want to get in the way of what you wanted for your recovery.” 

Waylon lets out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, my recovery.” Waylon searches his pocket for something to blow his nose in. “Let’s just say it’s not going so well.” 

Eddie delves into his own pocket and produces a handkerchief, promptly handing it over to Waylon. Waylon nods in appreciation and wipes his face and nose. “And what exactly do you mean by that, Waylon?”

Even though Waylon’s gaze is directed at his feet, Eddie can tell that he tearing up once more. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong… I’m attending all the classes. I’m trying to listen to all the instructors and other patients. I’m trying really hard, but everything still feels wrong.” Waylon murmers, “I’m trying really hard to make progress—I _am_ —” And Eddie nods, because of course he believes Waylon. “But I feel like I can’t move forward like this without leaving a piece of myself behind.”

Of course not. Eddie knew that Waylon would run into this problem eventually, what with his all or nothing attitude. “You feel like you can’t make the changes necessary for your recovery without changing your whole person.” Eddie summarizes. 

Waylon nods, attention still on his shoes. He looks exhausted. His eyes have deep, dark bags, his posture is worse than he’s ever seen it before, and his face looks downright pale. Eddie mentally kicks himself for letting Waylon carry on like this for so long. Eddie was ready to discuss things with Waylon after Trager had barged into his office a few days ago, but Trager had convinced him that they had to let Waylon really struggle with everything by himself before Eddie could swoop in and help. It was necessary for Waylon’s recovery, to learn that he couldn’t do this on his own. 

Waylon finally raises his head and looks at Eddie, eyes searching his. “So what do I do?”

Eddie is almost taken aback. He’s never seen Waylon like this before—eyes so imploring, practically begging for help. He has to ignore a strong instinct to give Waylon another hug. 

“I have an idea, if you’re willing to change up your schedule a bit more. It might involve less group therapy and educational courses, if that’s something you can part with.”

“Oh my god, of course!” Waylon squeals. “Fuck those classes, seriously.” Eddie tries to retain his composure, but he can’t stop the smile pulling on his lips. He had missed this. He had missed Waylon. 

“Well, I think it’d be wise to keep you enrolled in the courses that you get the most out of—the ones that you actually enjoy, but perhaps we can replace the one’s that you find less tolerable with some additional one on one therapy; however, this time I would require more of your input as to what you’d like this to look like.” 

Waylon is beaming at Eddie. “That sounds perfect, Eddie. Thank you—seriously.”

“Think nothing of it.” Eddie diverts his eyes. He can feel his face heating up at the look of pure adoration that Waylon has directed at him. “Also, Trager informed me of your situation.” He pauses here and absentmindedly scratches his cheek, not certain how to continue. “He told me to keep a rigorous log of your progress so we can show the courts. The courts of course will review your progress and sentence Miles accordingly. I assume this is quite the motivator for you?” 

Waylon nods solemnly. Eddie sighs and pulls his hand through his hair. “I want to make one thing clear immediately, Waylon: I will not report fabricated improvements as progress. Your therapy here is fairly unique, and if this is going to work then you need to be completely open and honest with me. This is going to require an immense amount of trust on both ends, and I need you to tell me if any issues arise immediately—concerning either your courses here or your therapy with Trager and myself. Can you do that?” 

Waylon nods immediately, eyes wide and genuine. “I promise. It won’t be a problem.”

“Good.” Eddie surveys Waylon as he starts shifting his weight from foot to foot. The man’s previous sense of calm slowly becoming replaced by anxious energy. “Is there anything else that you’d like to talk about, Waylon?” 

“Um, I guess I only have one other question.” Waylon pauses and takes a deep breath, his gaze wondering to his fidgeting fingers. “Are you and I okay? I mean, I know that you and I just apologized, and I know that we’re cool patient-to-therapist and all, but…” 

“I’m not sure I follow, Waylon.” Eddie speaks as gently as possible. 

Waylon inhales deeply once more before meeting Eddie’s eyes. “I guess I’m asking if you and I are friends?”

Eddie has to stop himself from stumbling backwards in surprise. He was not expecting this from Waylon. Typically, this would be completely unwelcomed, and it would be his ethical duty to inform his patient that there cannot be any relationship outside that of a patient-therapist relationship—even friendship, give the spiel that multiple relationships are detrimental to therapy—dangerous even. However, Trager did himself say that Eddie’s therapy with Waylon was meant to be unorthodox, and it had to be in order to help Waylon. Eddie realizes that he is taking too long to respond. Waylon looks nervous, sad even. His lips forming a thin line, his too-large eyes are focused on Eddie, and his brows are knit together. Why is Waylon looking so nervous? After all, Eddie’s the one with everything to lose here. It hadn’t even been a full week without contact with Waylon, and Eddie was ready to throw in the towel and beg Waylon to forgive him. Eddie had thought that it was obvious that Waylon meant more to him than his other patients. A surge of joy bubbles up in his chest as he considers that maybe Waylon feels the same. 

“But of course, Waylon. After all the time we’ve spent together, how could I not consider you a friend?” Eddie doesn’t even take a cursory glance around to survey the hallway. If someone was nearby listening in, let them listen. Right now the only thing on Eddie’s mind is consoling Waylon. And besides, it’s the truth. 

Waylon’s smile stretches into a huge grin. “Good. I’ve never had that many friends, but I’ve decided that I could definitely use one in here, and it looks like you’re it.” Eddie finds himself grinning as well. “Even though sometimes you piss me off beyond belief, I always like talking to you. I feel like I can always be myself around you, and in a place that feels like it’s trying to change the foundation of who you are, that’s a big deal.” Waylon laughs slightly. “I mean, I guess I feel like I can be myself around Trager too, but I don’t think he counts, since I’m pretty sure he is legitimately insane.” 

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. “Try working with him. The man is impossible.” 

“Yeah, I don’t envy you there.” Waylon gazes at Eddie with a soft smile on his face. “Hey, I’m actually on my way to group therapy now—I’m probably a bit late now actually, so I should go. But really, Eddie, thank you.” Waylon raises his hand up and gives Eddie’s shoulder a squeeze. 

“Don’t mention it. Now skedaddle, you! I didn’t know I was taking up your group therapy time.” Eddie shoes him away and watches Waylon walk away with a fond smile. 

“Well, that couldn’t have gone more perfectly if I planned it myself.” Eddie jumps and spins on his heels. Trager’s head is poking out from behind a door frame a little ways down the hallway. 

Trager’s eyes are squinted, and his smile seems to hold genuine mirth as he surveys Eddie. “Honestly, buddy, spot on.” Trager leaves his post behind the door frame and starts walking towards the opposite end of the hallway, calling over his shoulder as he leaves. “I can’t wait to see how this one turns out!”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie continues to do art therapy with Waylon. Every other day or so Eddie dredges up something that they can make—whether it be rubber band balls, paintings, charcoal portraits, or simply sketching. Eddie enjoys it immensely, and finds it to be extremely effective, as Waylon seems much more comfortable talking with something in his hands to fiddle with. Eddie learns that Waylon isn’t a big fan of being idle. He never did respond well to the long therapy sessions with other doctors—simply shutting down and refusing to speak. When Waylon is happily occupied, however, he actually becomes quite chatty. This time, Eddie had found some clay, and is pleased to find that Waylon is actually quite skilled with it. He sits, intrigued, as he watches Waylon roll and pound the clay on the table. Eddie had recently brought in a loom, hoping to teach Waylon the art of one of his favorite hobbies; unfortunately, Waylon didn’t have the patience to learn. After twenty minutes Waylon had told Eddie he had had enough, and Eddie had to get a pair of scissors in order to cut Waylon free from the intense tangle of yarn that had wrapped around Waylon’s hands. This session, Eddie hopes to tackle the subject of Waylon’s parents; or rather, why he refused to meet with them, and he starts by asking Waylon as much. 

Waylon glances up from his clay with a small frown and a single eyebrow raised. “Uh, because I don’t like them.” Waylon redirects his attention to rolling the ball of clay on the table.  


“Yes, I see that, but I want to know why you dislike them so deeply.”

Waylon seems satisfied with the spherical shape of his clay and begins digging a hole into the middle. Without looking up he says, “Because they’re assholes.” 

Eddie slouches in his seat. Waylon isn’t making this easy for him. “Waylon, while I am pleased that you’re actually appropriately participating in the art aspect of art therapy for once, I’d also like for you to join me in this discussion.” 

Waylon sighs and wipes his hands on his pants a few times. He meets Eddie’s gaze with a downturned mouth and knitted eyebrows. “Fine. What do you want to know? I’m a fucking open book.”

“Just what I asked—why do you harbor such fierce disdain for your parents? They’ve been trying to visit with you practically every day for the past month, but you keep denying them.” 

Waylon begins absentmindedly poking at the clay sitting on the table. “Well, for starters, I don’t trust them. They always have ulterior motives. They never want to just talk, or visit, or help anyone—anything that they do, they do for their own benefit. The only things they care about are money and prestige.” 

Eddie nods as he absorbs this information. “So you believe that they expect to get something out of their visit with you?” 

“Oh most definitely. I’m assuming it could be their attempt to save face now that they’re getting publicity over this. They probably want to appear like the perfect happy family. Well, fuck them.” 

“But what if you’re wrong, what if this is their attempt to reconnect with you?” Eddie leans forward and begins poking at the clay as well.

Waylon levels Eddie with a cold, unbelieving stare. “Are you kidding me? If they wanted to reconnect they could have met with me before they narked on me and Miles.”

“Alright, but what if they felt that you weren’t in the right mental state to reconnect with them previously?” Eddie winces. That wasn’t how that was supposed to come out. 

To Eddie’s surprise, Waylon simply rolls his eyes. “Well, I guess that’s their fucking problem then, isn’t it?” Waylon starts rolling a thick coil on the table, thinning it out as the coil grows longer. “Do you know what this is, Eddie? This is a natural consequence. When you fuck your son over in life, he may one day reserve the right to never talk to you again. Regardless of being an omega.” 

Eddie nods slowly. “So, I guess it’s safe to say that you have no interest of reconnecting with them anytime soon?”

Waylon snorts. “Try ever.”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie is shocked by how smoothly Waylon’s rehabilitation is going. His last month of therapy since they added more one on one therapy has been amazing—Waylon has progressed in leaps in and bounds. Eddie is so proud of Waylon’s dedication to his rehabilitation, but also of how much he has opened up to Eddie. The last month has been full of long conversations, tears, laughter, and silly crafts, and has given Eddie a sort of fulfillment that he’s never experienced before. While Eddie’s therapy with Waylon has been unorthodox to say the least, whenever he’s brought this up with Trager he’s been met by shrugs and the man remarking, “Hey, if it works it works.” And it is working. Eddie is hardly surprised by the Court’s decision to let Miles off easy in light of Waylon’s steady improvement at Mount Massive. Eddie is surprised, however, by the sight of Miles in the lobby, demanding visitation rights to Waylon. 

It takes about twenty minutes to get the man to calm down enough to follow Trager and Eddie into a private room to discuss the matter. It takes substantially less time for Eddie to formulate a firm impression of Miles. It is not a favorable one.

He hates this man. He doesn’t see what could have possibly made Waylon comply with his hair-brained ideas, much less skip town and live with him for ten years. The man is crass and unintelligent. 

“I get to see Waylon, right? I was told by the courts that I'd be allowed to see him after the sentencing.” Mile’s hopeful eyes dart between Eddie and Trager. 

“Absolutely not.” Eddie growls. “We are in no way obligated to allow you visitation with any of our patients.” 

Trager puts a hand on his knee. Eddie figures that this is supposed to be a calming gesture. “That’s something that we can discuss, if you’d like.” Trager offers.

Eddie’s head snaps towards Trager, his eyes wide and jaw clenched. Trager couldn’t seriously be considering allowing Miles to meet with Waylon. Miles, the man who fed Waylon lies for years and encouraged his delusions about life as an omega. After all the progress they’d made, why allow this man an attempt to sabotage it?

“Yeah, I want to see him. I need to make sure he’s okay.” Miles nods solemnly.

“Why exactly?” Eddie hisses. “You’re not his alpha.”

Miles jerks his head in Eddie’s direction and fixes him with a hard glare. “You’re right, I’m not. I’m his best friend. That’s what you do for a friend—you look out for each other.” Eddie stares at Miles with a glare of his own, refusing to back down. 

“Wait, you and Waylon weren’t…Involved with one another?” Trager asks. 

Miles raises an eyebrow in confusion, then understanding quickly blossoms on his face. Eddie is hanging on Mile’s answer, waiting for his heart to start beating again. “Oh! No, we never fucked. Our relationship was completely platonic. Like I said, he’s my best friend.”

Eddie allows himself to sit back in his seat and take a deep breath, but for some reason, Miles’ answer doesn’t entirely settle the jealousy bubbling in his stomach. “I think you mean _was_ …” Eddie mumbles out. 

Again, Miles’ attention snaps back to Eddie. “Excuse me, do you have a problem with me or something? I haven’t done shit to you, but you keep trying to pick a fight with me. What’s your deal?”

Eddie can feel the heat rising in his body. He is infuriated that Miles is oblivious to his crimes, enraged by the fact that Miles has been such a poor influence on Waylon, essentially ruined his life and chances at happiness, and is not even slightly apologetic. “You’ve not only wronged Waylon, but Waylon’s alpha, do you understand that? Waylon was supposed to enter into his heats, receive a bond-mark, and then find his alpha, but thanks to you, he’s been on suppressors the last ten years, so none of those things happened. You don’t even understand the mess you’ve made of Waylon’s life.” Eddie holds onto the edge of the table, gripping it tight in an attempt to stabilize himself. He chokes out through gritted teeth, “What if Waylon’s alpha has already been assigned to another omega, hmm? What if his alpha couldn’t stand the loneliness and took his own life? Do you understand the far reaching consequences of your actions?” Eddie stops to take a couple deep breaths.

Miles’ eyes widen in shock only to be replaced by an expression of pure disgust. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? You think you know what’s best for Waylon, and you act like you’re mad that I’ve prevented Waylon from living his best life, but you know what? You’re fucking wrong. I’m proud that I helped Waylon have ten years of freedom—even if I almost went to prison for it. Waylon deserves to lead his own life, and I’m not sorry for helping him have that, if only for a little bit.” Miles stops and positively sneers at Eddie. “And I absolutely do not give a single _shit_ about the alpha that would’ve kept him under lock and key at home.” 

Eddie stands up and slams his hands on the table. Trager jumps up and spreads his arms between the two. “Okay, okay, it’s time to take it down a notch, you two.” He pulls Eddie aside slightly and whispers, “I thought you said you could handle this?”

Eddie exhales a deep breath and runs a shaky hand through his hair. He nods slowly, re-centering himself. “I can. I’m sorry. That won’t happen again.”

“It better not, or I’m kicking you out of this interview.” Trager murmers before returning to Miles. 

“Miles,” Trager begins. “We cannot offer you an unsupervised visitation with Waylon at this time; however, if you comply with our interview we are willing to offer you a supervised visitation hour with Waylon.” 

Eddie grits his teeth and then adds. “We hold the right to terminate the visit at our discretion.”

Miles casts a wary glance at Eddie before looking at Trager again. “Okay then, what do you want to ask me?”

Trager flips through his notes a moment. “We have some holes in Waylon’s story—some things he didn’t want to answer for us regarding his parents. Can you elaborate on Waylon’s relationship with them?”

Eddie fidgets slightly. While he always enjoys working side by side with Trager, he had agreed to help Trager with this interview for a couple non-altruistic reasons. First of all, he wanted to meet Miles in person. He had heard so much about the man from Waylon—who held Miles up on a ridiculously high pedestal. Meeting him now, Eddie is beyond unimpressed. He can understand how Miles had broken Waylon down and brainwashed him with his anti-alpha propaganda though—the man seemed very stubborn. Eddie had also agreed to join in on the interview in order to learn more about Waylon’s life, but now, as he sits in the interview room across the table from Miles, he almost feels guilty. Like he is betraying Waylon’s trust. 

“Waylon never really got along with his parents. I think they knew that he was going to be an omega early on, and they really started to push him in that direction. Like, when Waylon decided he wanted to go to computer camp when he was ten, they flipped. Told him that he shouldn’t waste his time with such a dumb hobby. They wanted to send him to some kind of omega-training summer program. Teach him how to be gentle and shit like that. Waylon, of course, took a huge shit on that idea.”

“What exactly made them think that he was going to be an omega? I thought you said all the test results they received for him came back inconclusive?” Eddie leans forward in his seat. 

“Hell if I know. I mean, maybe just because he was super shy and pretty?” Eddie begins to tap his foot on the hard tile flooring in an attempt to keep his irritation at bay. He has to remind himself that Miles’ statement isn’t an admission of attraction to Waylon. No, he’s simply stating the facts. Eddie has seen some photos of Waylon as a child—with his big round eyes and his curly hair, he was objectively pretty. He still is. “But I don’t really know if it was just that they thought that he was gonna be an omega, or that they wanted him to be one. They had already started looking at suitors when he was in grade school. Really wealthy families that were looking for an omega that they could groom into whatever the fuck their alpha brat wanted.”

Eddie shook his head. It was always unfortunate to hear about families disregarding the importance of the bond mark. Arranged marriages between omegas and alphas were highly frowned upon, but they did still occur with some frequency in more affluent circles. 

“That’s really unfortunate.” Trager sighs as he jots down some notes. “But thank you for telling us that. That’s good for us to know going into our interview with Waylon’s parents soon.” 

“Waylon hasn’t… He hasn’t had to speak with his parents, right?” Miles winces.

Eddie shakes his head. “Not at this point in time, no. However, if we find that speaking with his family could be therapeutic for him or helpful in his recovery then that’s something that we might push for. I’m sure that his family would be agreeable to the idea.” 

“I’m sure they would be.” Miles spits. “Those assholes are probably head over heels with the idea of Waylon being stuck in this joint. They’re probably jizzing their pants over the thought of Waylon having all this pro-alpha bullshit funneled down his throat.”

Eddie is about to tell him to watch his mouth, but Trager scoots forward in his seat and directs an intrigued stare at Miles. “So, I’ve been dying to know, how did you and Waylon come to hate alphas so much?” Trager cocks his head in curiosity while he waits for Mile’s response. 

Miles pauses for a moment. “I wouldn’t say that we hate alphas…” Miles begins thoughtfully. “Maybe something more like we don’t like the behaviors society has dictated are acceptable for alphas to display?” Miles lets his idea hang in the air for a moment before nodding in approval. “Mainly, how they’re allowed to treat omegas and betas. Hell, even other alphas.” 

Trager looks enthralled. “And how did you come to decide this at such a young age?” 

“Mainly school. There were a lot of hormonal alphas who felt like they had the right to treat everyone else like shit. Especially omegas.” Miles shakes his head. “But they always got away with it because everyone just thought it was alphas being alphas. Yet if a beta or omega started making waves then all of a sudden it was a big fucking deal.”

Eddie nods and then a thought occurs to him. “So you said that Waylon looked and acted like an omega as a child, did he ever…” Eddie pauses, wetting his lips as he searches for the right words. “Get mistreated at school?” 

Miles scowls. “What the fuck do you think? All the fucking time. If Waylon wasn’t getting verbally harassed, then he had alphas getting into his space and trying to catch his scent. They made his life hell.”

Eddie can feel his heart race and his body heat up, anger pulsing through his veins. How _dare_ they…

Miles shakes his head and continues, eyes alit with pure hatred. “They used to wait until lunch and then push him around in the bathroom. I can’t remember how many times they put their scent on him as some kind of sick joke.”

Eddie sees red, the sound of his heart beating is painfully loud in his ears, drowning out the rest of Miles’ words. He digs his nails into the fabric of his pants in an attempt to steady himself. 

He vaguely hears Trager ask, “So none of the teachers or staff at the school interceded on his behalf? Not his parents either?” Eddie looks up hopefully, but is met by Miles starting to tear up.

“No, his parents were fucking ecstatic—they just fucking wanted him to present as an omega already. And none of the staff helped either, at least not until one of the shithead alphas took it too far...” Miles puts his hands over his eyes and leans on his elbows on the table. Eddie can hear heavy, shaky breaths, and for a moment, he forgets how much disdain he holds for this man. “One of ‘em trapped him in the locker room and tried to force himself on him…”

Eddie is immobilized. He is stuck to his seat, body trembling with barely contained rage. “ _What happened?_ ” He asks in a lethal whisper.

Miles is still slumped on the table with his hands covering his face, but Eddie can see him rubbing his hands over his eyes. “The alpha asshole got away with it. Fucking got away with a verbal warning.” Miles’ slumped form jumps slightly upon hearing Eddie’s fists land on the table. Miles briefly glances up at Eddie’s quaking form before resuming his previous position, voice barely above a whisper. “They told Waylon’s parents that he was distracting other students and that they should consider homeschooling him. That’s when I started giving him suppressors. A few years after that, we skipped town.” 

Trager nods his head slowly. He looks carefully at Eddie, who is currently tensely sitting in his seat grinding his teeth, and then back at Miles. “Miles. I’m so sorry that that happened. Waylon… He never deserved anything like that to happen to him.” 

Miles’ form snaps up from the table, his heated gaze falling upon Trager. “Nobody fucking deserves that! But that’s what you’re fucking teaching Waylon here—to lay down and act like he deserves that shit to happen to him…” Miles’ eyes darken as he seethes. “You both are part of the fucking problem.”

Eddie has to intertwine his fingers together tightly to avoid jumping up and putting his hands on Miles. There’s a moment where Trager is, for once, at a loss for words, and Eddie has to take a few steady breaths. “You think…” Eddie’s voice is an angry growl. “You think that we would want something like that to happen to omegas? To Waylon?!”

Miles levels Eddie with a cold glare. A long moment passes where Eddie and Miles are staring at each other with narrowed eyes and heaving chests. Eddie is silently begging Miles to hit him, just waiting for a reason to refuse Miles his right to visit Waylon. 

Miles eventually breaks eye contact by looking towards the door and crossing his arms over his chest. 

Trager must come to the conclusion that the current line of dialogue isn’t going anywhere, because he clears his throat and starts loudly shuffling through his notes. “Well, Miles, while we may disagree about the purpose and necessity of a facility such as this, we can both agree that what’s important here is Waylon’s wellbeing. It’s clear to see that you don’t entirely trust my collegue and I.” He tips his head in Eddie’s direction. Eddie swears he hears a _"no shit"_ mumbled under miles' breath, but Trager simply ignores him and continues on. “Regardless, Waylon has been mandated by the state to finish rehabilitation here with us. The most conducive way for any of us to help Waylon at the moment is to continue gathering information that might help with his therapy in the future. Do you agree?”  


Miles bites his lip for a long moment before sighing. “I told you I’d answer all your questions if it meant I get to see Waylon.”

Trager nods triumphantly. “Indeed you did. Now, I’d like to gather a little bit more information about Waylon’s dating habits through the years.”

Eddie is trying to look as casual as he can as he nonchalantly looks to Miles; meanwhile, his fingers are gripping the seat of his chair so hard he’s sure he’s going to leave finger impressions on the wood.

Miles stares at Trager in what appears to be equal measures of disbelief and disgust. “Dude. Really? I’m not here to air out Waylon’s dirty laundry to the both of you. You can ask him that.” 

“We’re already fairly certain that he hasn’t had any serious relationships, be it sexual or anything resembling a significant other, but I just wanted you to verify this information. After you answer this question we can conclude the interview and set you up with a meeting with Waylon.” Trager answers, a small smirk on his face, knowing that he was going to get the final piece of information that he wanted.

Miles folds his arms over his chest and looks away once more, this time looking like a sulking child. “Fine. He’s a virgin. He never wanted to risk anyone finding out that he wasn’t a beta, so he never went past first base. Happy?” 

Eddie finds, as he leans back in his chair, that he is. Trager quickly jots down some notes and looks to Eddie. “Can you go grab Waylon and bring him to a private room? How about 3-B? I can have someone bring Miles there in five minutes.” 

Eddie bites his lip as he looks between Miles and Trager. Trager has gone back to furiously scribbling down notes and Miles is looking at him with a self-satisfied smirk. Trager glances up again and adds, “Oh, and can you ask whoever is managing the recreation room if they wouldn’t mind monitoring the meeting? It’ll only be an hour or so.” Eddie’s neck tenses as he nods and quickly turns out of the room. While he can’t see Miles, he’s well aware of the large shit-eating grin the man is sporting. 

Eddie knows Waylon’s schedule, so he knows that he should be in group meditation right now. However, he also knows Waylon fairly well, and is fairly certain that he won’t find Waylon outside on a yoga mat with the rest of the omega patients. He practically stomps his way to Waylon’s room, and has to hold himself back from pounding on the door. He knocks a few times, hoping for a moment that maybe Waylon will unexpectedly be on an outing, and they’ll have to tell Miles to come back another time. His hopes are crushed when a sleepy looking Waylon answers the door.

“Wha’is it?” Waylon asked as he yawns and stretches in the doorway. “You woke me up from my nap.”

Waylon’s hair is sticking up at odd points and his clothes is disheveled and wrinkled. _Cute_ , Eddie thinks. “You’re supposed to be in group mediation right now.” Eddie states. 

Waylon shrugs his shoulders and gives Eddie a sleepy grin. “This is how I like to meditate. Alone. And in my bed.” 

Sometimes Eddie has to remind himself that he is one of Waylon’s therapists, and that he should not laugh and reinforce Waylon’s snarky antics. At least not all the time. Eddie has half a mind to just let Waylon go back to napping and pretend that he couldn’t find the omega, but then he knows that Trager would just come investigate and quickly find Waylon anyway. At least this way Eddie can be the person who monitors the meeting. Nobody has to know. 

“Come with me. You have a visitor.” 

Waylon takes a quick step back into his room. He looks at Eddie with eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Who? I’m not leaving this room if it’s my parents.” 

“It’s Miles.” Eddie practically growls out. He has to restrain himself from shutting the door and locking Waylon in his room when he sees the way the man’s face lights up. Waylon is quickly hopping over to his bed and shoving his feet into slippers before turning and staring at Eddie expectantly. All semblance of exhaustion overtaken by sheer giddiness. 

“Well, where is he?” Waylon’s smile is ear to ear, and he is practically bouncing as he walks down the hallway with Eddie. 

“He’ll meet you in room 3-B.” Eddie grits out. Waylon quickly nods and starts searching the hallway. Eddie considers telling Waylon that this meeting will be monitored, but figures that Waylon should assume that anyway. Or, maybe Eddie just doesn’t feel like sharing information with Waylon right now, since Waylon looks way too excited to see someone that’s not Eddie. Besides, if Waylon does happen to share any personal information with Miles during their meeting, it could only help his rehabilitation if Eddie is privy to it, right? 

Eddie opens the door for Waylon and quickly shuts it. He’s not in the mood to hear Waylon blabber on about how excited he is to see dear old Miles. He moves to the adjacent room and boots up the speaker system that enables the room he’s in to hear whatever is spoken in the other. A few minutes pass and Eddie watches annoyed as Waylon fidgets with his sleeves in anticipation. 

When Miles finally arrives Eddie grimaces as Waylon jumps up to hug him. The two envelope each other in a tight embrace, one that lasts about ten seconds too long for Eddie’s tastes. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief when the two finally sit down. 

“Way, buddy, I’ve missed you so much. How are you holding up in here?” Eddie scoffs upon noticing that Miles is crying. 

Waylon leans on the table and caresses Mile’s hand with his own. Eddie tells himself that it’s nothing more than a soothing gesture between friends, but it still makes his stomach drop slightly. “I promise you I’ve missed you more. It sucks here. It’s like the ninth circle of hell, just minus the ice.” 

Eddie winces at that. That one stings. He had hoped that Waylon didn’t completely hate it here. He had sort of hoped that Waylon was growing to like it. 

“Dude, you’re not joking. I met two of the doctors here—some real lunatics you have here teaching you how to properly behave in society.” Waylon snorts in laughter. 

“Yeah, a lot of them are a real piece of work. But some of them are okay. Who did you meet with?”

“Trager and Eddie. That Eddie guy has a stick up his ass—probably the biggest one I’ve ever seen. The stick I mean, not his ass.” 

“That’s weird.” Waylon states slowly. “I actually really like Eddie—he’s my favorite doctor in this whole joint.” Eddie feels his chest and cheeks warm up. It’s his turn to smile smugly while Mile’s jaw actually drops.

“Please tell me you’re kidding, Way. That guy was like the epitome of an angry, overbearing alpha. I was afraid if I let my guard down he’d actually bite me. And then Trager would’ve just been happy to document the whole scenario.” Miles is watching Waylon with wide, serious eyes. 

Waylon chuckles. “Yeah, Trager is kind of a psycho like that. Archaic beliefs aside, I think he might actually be a cool guy. He’s got a sense of humor at least.” Waylon gives Miles a weak smile and shrugs. 

Miles waves his hand through the air. “Enough about your whackjob doctors. How are you doing? For real. Have they started to break you yet?”

Waylon rolls his eyes. “No, Miles, this isn’t Cold Mountain Penitentiary.”

“You know what I mean.” Miles pauses. “Are you starting you to feel any different? Y’know, submissive?” Mile’s voice drops down to a whisper.

Waylon purses his lips to try to hide his smile. “I don’t know, I try to only feel how they tell me to feel.” Waylon’s face breaks into a huge grin and he starts laughing.

“That’s not fucking funny, Waylon. I’m being serious here.” Miles fixes Waylon with a cool glare and Waylon stops laughing. 

“Listen, Miles.” Waylon says. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about this place, but it’s not quite that bad. It sucks, for sure, but I’m not getting that whole brain-washing vibe. At least not yet. I don’t know, so far I’ve just mostly been to group therapy sessions and talked with other omegas that were struggling to adapt as well.” Eddie notices that Waylon has conveniently left out mentioning his therapy sessions with Eddie. 

Mile’s eyes widen. “Struggling to adapt? Do you hear yourself, Way? It sounds like they’ve already fucking gotten to you.” 

“Oh my gosh, Miles, you know what I mean. That might be the phrase they use around here, but it just means that they don’t feel like they fit in either. I’m just saying that I can relate. That’s all.” Waylon pats Mile’s hand resting on the table with his own. 

Miles shakes his head. “I don’t like this, I don’t like this at all. I bet this is how they get you. They probably have planted omegas in your group therapy—at first they come off all relatable, and then before you know it they’re telling you to drink the kool-aid.” 

Waylon raises an eyebrow and laughs slightly. “I’m sorry, is this a cult or a rehabilitation center?”

Miles leans back in his seat and pouts. “Same fucking thing.” 

Miles looks up when Waylon grabs at his wrist. “I promise, Miles, I’m fine. I wish I was still in Boulder with you, but besides that I’m doing okay.” 

Miles nods. “Okay, I guess I’ll just have to believe you. But if I even hear a single word about weird shit going down here, I’m going to break in and smuggle you out.” A smile slowly creeps onto his face. “You know where I wish we were? Montana.” A huge grin makes its way to Waylon’s face.

“Fuck yeah!” Waylon exclaims. “We never got to take our trip over the summer to Glacier National Park!”

“I know! It is literally killing me that we still haven’t hiked the Highline Trail. I swear, as soon as you get out of here that’s the first place we’re going. You and me. And whichever poor sap gets stuck with you I guess.” Miles sticks his tongue out a Waylon, who returns the gesture. 

“But for real. Let’s go. You and me. I’m sorry that you got caught up in this mess with me, Miles. I can’t thank you enough for all you did for me…” Eddie swallows heavily as he can hear Waylon’s voice get thick with emotion. He’s heard Waylon cry enough times to know when to expect it. “I’m just so fucking relieved that you aren’t going to prison for me…”

Miles shakes his head, expression dead serious. “Waylon, even if I were sentenced to prison, it still would have been worth it. I don’t regret a single thing.” 

Waylon’s misty eyes squint as a smile makes its way onto his face. “Don’t let the court hear you say that, Miles. Next thing you know you won’t just be sentenced to pick up trash next to the highway anymore.” 

Miles pretends to sigh wistfully. “I wish that was what my community service was—I’m being forced to volunteer at a preschool. The court said that I needed to broaden my understanding of the importance of omega-alpha relationships as an investment in our future, or some bullshit like that.” 

Waylon grabs at his stomach and playfully stomps his feet on the ground as he begins cackling. “Oh my god! You?! With kids!?” 

“Shut it, Waylon!” Miles shouts, pretending to be angry, but is betrayed by his large smile. 

Waylon tries to get some words out between his laughter. “I just can’t… I can’t imagine you trying to interact with kids… Oh my gosh, you just hate them so much…” 

Miles leans across the table and starts playfully digging his knuckles into Waylon’s skull. “You think this is funny, d’ya? Ya little shit.” 

Eddie takes one more look at the pair—Waylon is still giggling and trying to swat Mile’s hands away from his head, Miles relentlessly trying to give him a good noogie—before deciding that he can’t handle watching their easy interaction anymore. He had thought that he was making great progress with Waylon, but watching Waylon interact with Miles now makes him wonder if any of that progress was actually genuine, or was Waylon just putting on a show to get Miles out of prison time? Eddie decides not to contemplate it further as he slips out of the observation room with a headache and a pain in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for comments, kudos, and bookmarks. I tried to get this one out a little faster.

Eddie finds himself feeling ill the next few days, and stays at home nursing an upset stomach. Trager calls and texts to keep him updated with his patients’ therapy, mostly Waylon’s, but Eddie cannot drum up enough energy to display any enthusiasm. He is aware that he is upset about how things transpired with Waylon the day before, maybe even a bit jealous of Miles for how enraptured by him Waylon seems to be, but he swears that he really does have a physical pain in his stomach. Better to stay home until he recovers than go into work and give sub-par therapy. He spends his time lying on the couch and napping, periodically going through some of his case notes. 

He just can’t seem to stop thinking about Waylon, and how happy Waylon looked while talking to Miles. 

By the end of his second sick day, he’s become tired of sitting on the couch and sulking, so he sends a quick email to Trager informing him that he’s recovered and is planning on coming in tomorrow.

Trager is extremely pleased to see Eddie the next morning. He enters Eddie’s office with a broad grin. “Eddie! So glad you decided to finally grace us with your presence again!”

“Yes, well, I didn’t want to come in and spread around whatever it is I caught.” Eddie grumbles.

“Suuuuure.” Trager nods and smiles. Eddie hates this smile. It means that Trager knows something that Eddie doesn’t, and isn’t planning to share. “Anyway, I think you better swing by the recreation room. There’s a certain patient that’s been going a little stir-crazy without you here.” 

Eddie grunts in response and continues sorting through the paperwork that has accumulated in his absence. Eddie glances up a few moments later, noticing that Trager still hasn’t left.

“Is there something else that you need?”

Trager raises an eyebrow. “Really Eddie? How long are you going to make Waylon mope around here all alone, just because he enjoyed his time with Miles?” Trager folds his arms over his chest and looks at Eddie squarely in the eyes, his mouth downturned. 

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Eddie says as he rubs his neck. He’s already regretting coming in today. Here comes the stomach pains again.

Trager doesn’t budge. Eyes still fixed on Eddie. “I think you do.” Trager maintains eye contact with him for a few more seconds before sighing and inching towards the door, adding, “Just so you know, green is not a good color on you, Eddie,” before striding off. 

Eddie growls and stomps over to his office door, quickly shutting it. He doesn’t need Trager’s attitude and half-assed assumptions right now. And he’s definitely not jealous. The very idea that Trager would think so little of his professional presence as a therapist is demeaning. He glances over at the clock on his wall—it’s half past nine, which means that he has some time to kill before any morning activities begin. His eyes roam over to the stack of papers on his desk. He could stand to get some paperwork done before meeting with any patients. He sits back at his desk and begins to organize his work based on deadlines. 

He falls into a nice rhythm. He’s making some good progress, he’s practically flown through half the stack in no time at all, but pauses when he hears a knock at the door. 

He doesn’t look up from his desk, simply hollers, “Come in,” and continues signing documents. He hears the door open and light footsteps follow. He looks up and sees Waylon standing in the doorway, shuffling his feet as he glances around the office. 

“Waylon, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Eddie honestly states. Patients aren’t often permitted on the fourth floor, where all the therapists’ offices are located. 

“Sorry, I was kind of looking around for you to give you this.” Waylon gestures towards the plastic container in his hand. There’s some sort of red liquid swishing around inside as he moves his hands. “Trager told me I could come to your office. I hope that’s okay?” Waylon winces. Eddie watches as his hands fidget with the container he’s holding. 

Eddie smiles slightly. “Of course. I was just taken aback a bit as I wasn’t expecting any visitors so early in the day.” 

Waylon smirks and looks at the clock on his wall, Eddie’s eyes follow. Apparently, it’s somehow past noon already. Eddie quickly checks the watch on his wrist, which corresponds with the time on the clock. He must have gotten lost in his work. 

“My apologies, Waylon. I meant to come visit you before your afternoon classes began, but I must have lost track of time.”

Waylon nods. He must be feeling less nervous being in Eddie’s office, because he takes a few steps forward and places his container down on Eddie’s desk. “It’s tomato soup.” Waylon explains. “We made it in home-economics yesterday. Trager told me you were behind on work, and that sometimes you just get so engrossed in what you’re doing that you miss lunch, so I figured…” He trails off with a shrug. 

Eddie looks at the plastic container on his desk and then at Waylon. The man is fidgeting once more with his fingers. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to. It’s okay if you don’t want it—I don’t even know if it’s any good.” He’s starting to ramble. “And it’s probably weird to eat something that a patient made, and you probably have your own lunch you’d rather eat anyway.” 

Waylon’s hands reach to pick up the container from Eddie’s desk, but Eddie quickly leans forward and scoops the container up before he can get to it. “No no, I’d love to try your tomato soup. I’m looking forward to it, really. I’m just surprised is all.” He raises an eyebrow as he appraises Waylon. “I thought that the home economic courses we offered here were your least favorite, why did you willingly attend one?” 

Waylon shifts slightly on his feet. “Oh, well. Trager told me you were out sick. I heard they were gonna make some kind of soup in class, so I figured why the hell not.” He stops and scratches his neck. “I know people usually prefer chicken noodle when they’re sick, but they didn’t have the right ingredients to make that.”

Eddie feels his heart swell. His lips tug upward, and he knows he’s smiling ear to ear right now. Waylon looks a lot more comfortable all of a sudden. “Waylon, that is so kind of you to think of me. Thank you, really.” 

Waylon’s cheeks turn slightly pink as he rolls his eyes. He sits his bottom down on the surface of Eddie’s desk. “Well I’m used to seeing your mug around here on a pretty consistent basis, it’s hard for me not to notice when you’re gone.” He leans over and playful punches Eddie’s shoulder. “You had me worried that you were out with something serious. Looking at you now, I know you were just playing hooky.” 

Eddie fakes a look of hurt, bringing a hand to his chest. “Waylon, I’m appalled that you would even suggest the idea that I might fake an illness to get out of work.” 

Waylon leans forward once more and pokes Eddie in the chest, right next to where his hand is placed. “You look pretty okay to me, mister.” 

Eddie chuckles lightly. “Well, I recovered. In all honesty, though, it was nothing more than a persistent stomach ache. Nothing to worry about.” 

Waylon is quiet for a moment, looking him over. Was Waylon actually worried about him? 

Waylon quickly hops off of his desk, stretching both arms high in the air, releasing a loud yawn. “Well, now that I’ve run that errand, I’m gonna head down to the cafeteria. See ya later, Eddie.” Waylon waves and steps towards the doorway.

“Wait a moment, Waylon, it looks like there’s more than enough soup in here for both of us. What do you say we warm this up and go to our typical therapy room? You can get me caught up on what you’ve been up to the past two days in my absence.” 

Waylon turns around and faces Eddie again. “Sure, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“Of course not. Here, follow me.” Eddie stands up and grabs the container before leading Waylon out of his office and towards the staff break room. There’s a couple staff members in there; one of them is pouring himself a cup of coffee, and a woman is lounging on the couch on her phone. The man at the coffee machine looks slightly surprised upon seeing Waylon enter the kitchen, but then he simply goes back to his coffee. 

The lady on the couch sits up and twists her body around so she can see who’s entered the break room, her face lighting up when she sees Waylon and Eddie. Eddie hadn’t recognized her from the back of her head when they first walked in, but he takes in the dark brown hair and smiling face of nurse Jill. She’s always been a very sweet to Waylon, and Eddie has always liked her, even if she is a bit of a scatterbrain. “Waylon! I see you got your buddy back, huh?” She chuckles lightly and wags her finger at Eddie. “Eddie, you’re not allowed to take unexpected days off like that—poor Waylon was so bored!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Eddie chuckles as he puts his hands up in a mock apology. He places the container in the microwave and starts heating up their soup, facing the nurse after shutting the tiny microwave door. “I swear, it won’t happen again. I hope he wasn’t too much of a terror.”

“Hey!” Waylon shouts indignantly. “I am a joy.” 

Jill laughs through her nose and shakes her head. “He was fine, really. Just a bit antsy.” 

Waylon crosses his arms over his chest and juts out his bottom lip. “He’s also right here,” he mumbles. Jill laughs again and turns around, resuming her previous position on the couch. Eddie opens the door to the fridge and pulls out an old, tin lunchbox. He reaches up into one of the cabinets and pulls out two ceramic bowls and a faded plastic plate. He then starts digging through the utensil drawer, pulling out two spoons and a knife. 

“Here,” he asks, “can you hold on to these for me?” Waylon nods and Eddie hands off the collected dishes and utensils before grabbing the container of soup out of the microwave and stacking it on top of the lunchbox. 

Waylon follows Eddie out of the room and down the hallway towards the elevator. Eddie presses the button and they wait for the elevator to come to their floor. “So it sounds like you had some difficulty filling your time while I was gone?” He doesn’t mean to sound so smug. 

Waylon pouts once more. “Yeah, yeah, I was lost without you here.”

Eddie flinches. He’s sure that Waylon meant that as a joke, but it didn’t sound all that sarcastic to Eddie’s ears. 

“Well I’ll make sure not to get sick again any time soon.” 

They stand in silence while they wait for the elevator. The elevator door opens and they both step inside, Eddie pressing a button before they descent to the second floor. They walk down the hallway and Eddie opens the door to their usual therapy room. Taking their usual seats at the tall, metal table, Waylon sitting across from Eddie, they set their plates and food out. Eddie pulls out an apple from his old lunchbox and sets out slicing it up. Waylon, in the meantime, pours the soup out of the containers and into the bowls. 

Waylon tries a spoonful of the soup. “Oh _fuck_. If I knew the food we make in home economics was this good I wouldn’t have boycotted it so intensely. This definitely beats cafeteria food.”

Eddie chuckles and pulls out a sandwich from his lunchbox as well, placing it next to the sliced apple. He proceeds to cut the sandwich in half as well. “Half for you, and half for me.” Eddie announces as he takes a bite of his part of the sandwich. 

“Oh, thank you, Eddie.” Waylon chirps. He picks up his half of the sandwich and dips it in his soup. 

They eat in comfortable silence for a minute before Eddie asks, “So, what else did you do to stay busy while I was out?”

“Not much,” Waylon says around a bite of apple, “I didn’t do much of anything the first day. Just kind of hung around. The second day I got roped into going to yoga. Then after that I figured I’d go to the home economics class.” He gestures towards the soup. “Then, I went to the rec. room and found Trager there. I bugged him for a while, and then he kicked me out.” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Wow, it sounds like you had an eventful day.”

Waylon frowns. “Ugh, it was the worst. I’m serious, you’re not allowed to get sick again. In fact…” Waylon leans across the table and swipes at a pen lying near Eddie’s bowl. He quickly pops the cap off and grabs at Eddie’s hand, flipping it over so his palm is flat across the table. He writes a few words before replacing the cap on his pen and returning to his soup.

“Vitamin C and Zinc?” Eddie reads. 

“Yeah.” Waylon takes a slurp of his soup and then explains, “My mom and dad used to swear by Vitamin C and Zinc as the best way to avoid getting sick. It’s literally the one thing from them that I’ve held on to through the years, so you better pick some up for yourself after you leave here today.” 

Eddie stares at Waylon’s messy hand writing scrawled across his hand and smiles. He tries to tell himself that Waylon doesn’t care about him that way; sure, he’s looking out for Eddie, but that’s just because the alternative ends with Waylon feeling alone and bored. He’s Waylon’s best friend at the clinic. That’s all. He tries to tell himself that, but he knows his heart isn’t listening to logic when he feels it skip a beat.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Days pass, and Eddie and Waylon quickly fall back into their usual routine. Waylon attends a course or two throughout the day, but the bulk of his time is spent with Eddie in private therapy sessions. He still attends group therapy a few times a week, but Eddie finds other activities outside of crafts to fill their time. As the weather starts to warm up, they begin spending more time outside, walking around the grounds, and even playing basketball. Recently, they’ve gotten into the habit of taking their therapy into the recreation room and play ping-pong and chatting while the other patients attend classes and group therapy. 

One day, the pair is volleying the ping-pong ball around while discussing favorite films. Waylon is not at all shocked to hear that Eddie’s favorite movies include older classics and foreign films. He definitely had Eddie pegged as someone who still appreciates black and white films, and he isn’t wrong. Waylon admits that the Elephant Man is a great movie, and he’s always enjoyed watching anything from Alfred Hitchcock, but absolutely detests It’s a Wonderful Life. He also draws the line at silent films. 

Waylon off-handedly mentions how disappointed he is to be missing the sequel of one his favorite films. It’s probably hit the theaters by now.

“It just came out, actually.” Eddie informs Waylon as he lobs the ping-pong ball to the edge of the table. Waylon returns it easily, hitting the ball at an angle to create some spin. They had played enough ping-pong recently to learn a few tricks. 

Waylon sighs. “That means I’ll have to settle with watching it on Netflix when I’m out of here.” 

Eddie catches the ball in the air. “You know, you aren’t stuck here. You are allowed to leave for day trips periodically.”

“Yeah, I know. You guys offer group trips and stuff, but I’m not really a big-group type of person.” Waylon shrugs and gives Eddie the come-here motion. “Come on, serve the ball.” 

Eddie keeps the ball in his hand. “Well it wouldn’t necessarily have to be in a big group. You’re allowed to request an individual outing with a chaperone.”

“A chaperone?” Waylon blanches. “What is this, the 1920’s?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “It’s to ensure the safety of our patients. Some of our patients have family visits and such, or medical appointments with other doctors.” 

Waylon puts his paddle down on the ping-pong table and stands up straight, looking at Eddie seriously. “Wait, so you’re telling me that this whole time you and I could have been doing fun shit outside of Mount Massive?” 

“Well perhaps. You’d have to get approval from Trager, though. That’d probably involve an assessment to ensure that your mental state can handle being surrounded by other alphas and betas.”

Waylon starts jumping up and down. “Let’s go! Right fucking now! You know there’s no way I’m not gonna pass that thing!” 

“There’s other aspects that contribute to the decision of letting a patient go out in public, you know.” Eddie says, but Waylon is already marching towards him and grabbing at his hand. Waylon begins pulling him towards the doorway of the recreation room. 

“I don’t care, I just can’t believe you didn’t mention this until now. We’ve been playing ping-pong every day for the last two weeks, don’t you want to do something different?”

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it. Waylon seems genuinely excited about a chance to go out into the community, and Trager will probably clear him to go, so there’s really no issue. Eddie is surprised that he hadn’t thought about doing this with Waylon sooner. He had planned activities for himself and Waylon every day, and Waylon simply seemed happy doing whatever. Eddie knows he himself has been. Waylon and Eddie have grown quite accustomed to passing the time together. 

Eddie blushes when he realizes that Waylon is still holding his hand as he pulls him through the hallway. He waits an extra second before breaking the contact and speeding up so that he is marching alongside Waylon. “I will admit a change of scenery would be nice. And it’s not very often that we have patients with as much free time as you, so it must have slipped my mind.”

They approach the elevator, Waylon pressing the up button a few times and turning towards Eddie. “So am I allowed to come up to Trager’s office and petition this myself, or should I just wait for you?”

Eddie just waves his hand. “It’s Trager, so it’s fine. You can come with.”

Eddie watches Waylon’s energy bubble to the surface as they wait for the elevator. Waylon is always so very easy to read, and Eddie loves that about him. He loves his shy smiles, and how he’ll blush every time you compliment him. He loves how he fidgets with his hands when he’s nervous, or if he’s just been idle for too long. Right now, Waylon is rocking back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet, excited energy nearly tangible. As soon as the elevator door opens Waylon hops in and slams his palm on the fourth floor button. Eddie snorts as he steps into the elevator. 

When they reach the fourth floor Waylon has stepped through the elevator doors before they have even opened entirely. “It’s not a race, Waylon, you don’t need to run.”

Waylon quickly steps back onto the elevator and pushes Eddie through the opened door. “Come on, come on! It’s not a race, but goddamn! Let’s go!” 

Eddie barks out a laugh and allows Waylon to push him down the hallway, stopping at Trager’s door. Waylon peeks his head across the threshold. 

Eddie gives a few solid knocks against his door. Trager looks up from his laptop at his desk and grins at the pair. “Well well, if it isn’t the dynamic duo—Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, Mario and Luigi, Peanut Butter and Jelly, Snoop Dogg and weed. What do you two want this time?”

Waylon blinks. “I thought it was Snoop Lion now?” 

Trager dismisses him with a shake of his hand. “You’ve been in here for the last four months with minimal contact with the outside world, you wouldn’t know Snoop Dogg’s current title if it bit you in the ass.” 

Eddie steps in before Waylon can reply. “That’s actually why we stopped by—Waylon would like to schedule a day trip out in the community. That is, if you think he’s clear to go.”

Trager shakes his head. “Heaven help the town of Lake County.” He swivels around in his chair and begins rummaging through his file cabinet. He turns back around and slams a white sheet of paper on his desk. “Eddie, sign here and here. Waylon, signature and date on the dotted line, please.”

The two approach the desk and sign the form, and then look expectantly up at Trager. “Welp, that’s it. The two of you are welcome to plan the outing now, as you’ll have to let me know what’s on the agenda anyway before you’re allowed to leave the premises. You guys have permission to leave the clinic for up to eight hours between 8 am and 8 pm.”

Waylon raises an eyebrow at Trager. “You’re not going to assess me or whatever?”

Trager just shrugs. “Don’t feel like it. ‘Sides, you’ll be with Eddie-boy, so you’ll be fine.” Trager folds his hands on the desk and leans forward. “So, what are you boys going to do with your eight hours of freedom?” 

Eddie looks at Waylon. “Well, what are your thoughts?”

Eddie realizes that he has signed the form both as Waylon’s lead therapist and as the staff member that will be escorting him on the outing. A swell of joy rushes through him. He had assumed that he’d be the one to escort Waylon on the trip, but now that it’s definitive he’s starting to get excited. Also, there’s something about the fact that it’s just assumed that Waylon will want him to be the staff member that accompanies him that makes Eddie feel warm and fuzzy.

Waylon turns to face Trager. “I want to go see a movie. And ice cream. I definitely want ice cream. I’m assuming that you let patients access their funds somehow?” 

“Yes,” Trager answers, “we have an account set up for each patient with money they can access for events such as these. This was all explained to you during orientation, don’t you remember?” 

Waylon purses his lips and pshhh’s. “You honestly expect me to remember anything from orientation? Please, I was a mess, and I had no idea what was going on. Honestly, my first week here is kind of a blur.” 

Trager hums. “Well you were definitely a lot quieter back then. You almost fooled me into thinking you were shy.” 

Eddie is nodding as he recalls the scared omega he remembers seeing in the interview room with Trager. Waylon was practically shaking he was so afraid. Looking at Waylon now, you’d think he’s a different person. He walks around like he owns the place. Although, even back then Eddie could tell the man had a big personality. 

“But I am shy.” Waylon mumbles.

Eddie and Trager face each other and look at one another for a second before bursting into laughter. 

“Shy he says!” Trager says between bursts of laughter. “The most outspoken patient and biggest pain in my ass thinks he’s shy!” 

Eddie is laughing hard as well, hand landing on Trager’s desk to steady himself. “You-you think you’re shy, Waylon?” He starts laughing harder. 

Waylon folds his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes at the two. “Are you guys done?”

Trager wipes a tear from his eye. “I’m just saying, you’re not fucking shy. Please, your second week here you tried to organize the other patients into a hunger strike. Hell, by the end of your first week you were already so intolerable that you made one your therapists _resign_. You’re a lot of things, Waylon, but you’re not fucking shy.” Trager is shaking his head once more, but a small smirk is adorning his face. 

Waylon just scowls.

“Anywaaaay,” Trager starts, “time for you two kiddos to skedaddle. I’ve got work to get to. You’ve gotten your permission to go on your date complete with movie and ice cream, now shoo!” Trager motions them out of his office with a wave of his hand. 

Eddie feels his cheeks warm and sneaks a glance at Waylon, who just mumbles, “Whatever,” and puts his hand in his pockets and trudges out of the office. 

They start walking towards the elevator, Waylon glancing up at Eddie and asking, “So, wanna go tomorrow?”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The next day they go out on their outing. Eddie and Waylon decide to leave the clinic after lunch to make a matinee movie showing. Eddie takes one of Mount Massive’s white vans and drives them into town. Waylon is excitedly chattering on and on about going into town the whole way. When they park the car Eddie watches fondly as Waylon practically skips his way to the movie theater. 

After they’ve bought their tickets and found their seats, Eddie unzips his coat pocket to reveal a couple bags of gummy worms. 

Waylon’s eyes light up. “Eddie, did you or did you not just smuggle gummies into the movie theater?”

Eddie whistles innocently. Waylon snorts and puts his hand up to give Eddie a high five. Eddie quickly brings his hand to slap against Waylon’s and hands him one of the bags. He’s well aware that gummy worms are Waylon’s favorite. 

Waylon looks at him with warm, glowing eyes before ripping open his bag and shoving a handful of worms into his mouth. “You are the absolute best, Eddie.” 

Eddie tries not to preen. He thinks he fails. 

They sit and munch on their gummy worms, commenting on the previews and stating which movies look dumb and which ones they’d actually go see. Soon, the lights dims. Eddie can see Waylon squirming excitedly in the seat next to him in his peripheral vision. He tries to keep his attention on the film, but he keeps looking at the other man out of the corner of his eye, watching or the upturn of his mouth when he laughs, or how his eyes squint when something makes him smile. Half-way through the movie he takes notice of Waylon’s scent. He’s never noticed how the omega smelled at Mount Massive, but in the small movie theater his scent is quite strong. And really intoxicating. By the end of the film, Eddie can’t even act like he’s paying attention to the movie—his whole body is oriented in Waylon’s direction, desperate to experience every passing emotion that flits across Waylon’s face, as well as take in his scent. When they walk out of the theater together Waylon is excitedly chirping about the film, gushing over how unexpected the ending was. Eddie just nods along and pretends to know how exactly the film concluded, not willing to admit that he was so enraptured by Waylon by the end of the film that he struggled to pay attention.

Eddie briefly wonders if he should say something to Waylon about his scent. It is an abnormal occurrence, maybe they should head back? He shakes his head at that thought—Waylon is so excited to be out and about with Eddie. It’d be a shame to end the outing early.

They continue walking down the sidewalk of the small downtown section of Lake County. Waylon is still talking animatedly about the movie, but he’s starting to rub his hands over his bare arms. His teeth are chattering slightly. Eddie had told Waylon he should grab a light jacket before they left, just in case, but Waylon of course declared that he’d be fine. 

This is perfect.

Eddie wordlessly removes his own jacket as Waylon continues chatting. Eddie places the brown leather jacket on Waylon’s shoulders. Waylon pauses, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion as he looks up at Eddie. “Uh, is there a reason you’re giving me your coat, Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs. “All this walking around is making me warm. And it looks like you’ve got goosebumps on your arms.” Waylon quickly looks at his arms and sees that he does in fact have goosebumps. 

Eddie intentionally leaves out the bit about wanting his scent to mask Waylon’s. And he definitely doesn’t share that a large part of him wants Waylon wrapped up in his scent always. He wonders how long his jacket will smell like the small omega. 

“I guess it’s colder out here than I thought it’d be.” He starts to tug his arms into the sleeves, stopping to look at Eddie and ask, “You’re sure you won’t need it?” 

Eddie quickly shakes his head and shoves his hands into his pants pockets. Yes, it is a little chilly out, but he’d much rather have Waylon wearing his coat. 

Waylon puts the coat on and zips it up. “Alright, but you let me know if you want it back.” 

Eddie is dumbstruck as he looks at Waylon wearing his coat. He knew it would be too big for him, but the sight in front of him is almost comical. Waylon has to roll up the sleeves three times, and they’re still falling past his wrists. He’s practically swimming in the coat, the body of the thing ending way past his waistline. Waylon lets out a frustrated grunt as he rolls the sleeves up an additional time. Eddie covers his mouth and looks away. The man in front of him is simply too adorable. 

They continue walking together, Eddie guiding them to his favorite local ice cream shop. When they get there Waylon studies the menu on the wall. 

He turns to Eddie. “I can’t decide between cotton candy or bubblegum. Which one should I get?” 

Eddie puts a finger to his chin for a moment and then answers, “Cotton candy.” 

Eddie himself usually prefers more classic flavors—like chocolate and strawberry swirl, but he decides to get a cone of cotton candy ice cream alongside of Waylon. It’s exceptionally sweet, and he makes a mental note that maybe Waylon has more of a sweet tooth than he’s letting on. 

They walk outside the ice cream shop and pick a bench to sit at. “Ooh, you know what I haven’t done in forever? People watch!” Waylon says as he happily licks at his ice cream cone. He points to a young man and woman across the street. “Do you think they’re a couple, siblings, or friends? And remember—you’re not allowed to pick up anyone’s scents!” 

“Hmm…” Eddie watches as the man talks animatedly, moving his hands to emphasize whatever point he’s making, the woman beside him nodding her head. “I think siblings, probably. They look very similar, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but sometimes couples end up looking like each other somehow.” Waylon licks a stray drip of ice cream that’s melted on his hand. “I don’t know how it happens, but it’s definitely a thing. Like how people sometimes look like their dogs.” 

Eddie hums in fascination. He actually has noticed that before. 

Waylon points at a businesswoman sitting on the outside patio of the bistro down the street. There’s a young man sitting across from her, quickly taking notes. “Is that guy her assistant or young lover?” He waggles his eyebrows at Eddie.

“Definitely her assistant. Why else would he be taking dictation?” 

They both gasp slightly as the woman grabs the man by the collar and pulls him forward roughly, planting a firm kiss on his lips.

“Well,” Eddie starts, “he could still be her assistant.”

This time it’s Eddie’s turn to pick someone out. He nods his head toward a middle-aged woman parking her car on the side of the street. She’s dressed plainly in jeans and a purple blouse, but her blonde hair is shiny and curled. They watch as she rushes around to the other side of the car to open the door for another middle-aged woman. The other lady is dressed in all black, and her black hair bounces slightly as she grabs the other woman’s hand and hops up on the curb. As she turns their way they notice her dark eye make-up. “So is this a first date? Or are they married and just rekindling the flame?” 

Waylon leans forward and watches as the pair walks past them down the side walk, hands connected and swinging as the girl channeling her inner-goth enthusiastically nods at something the blonde woman says.

“They look like they’ve known each other for a long time. Probably married.” He leans back and nods his head. 

“I thought so too,” an unfamiliar voice states. Both Waylon and Eddie turn their head and see an elderly lady and a man come out of the ice cream parlor. The elderly woman is moving towards them on a walker, smiling broadly. “Sorry, we heard you two from inside the shop and decided to play too. My son and I are currently in disagreement about the two of you, though. Tell me, are you two married?”

Eddie is speechless. Did the two of them look like they were a couple? A rush of happiness fills his chest, and he nearly jumps when he hears Waylon laugh loudly. 

“No no, we’re not married. We’re not even dating.” He jerks his thumb in Eddie’s direction. “He’s my therapist.” 

The woman’s eyes graze curiously between Eddie and Waylon. “Oh. Well isn’t that nice.” She nods at the pair and continues walking along the sidewalk, her son quickly falling into step next to her.

Once she’s out of earshot Waylon starts laughing again. “Well I guess not everyone is as good at this game as we are.” He stands up and crumples up his napkin, shooting it into the nearby trashcan. He grumbles when the napkin bounces off the rim and lands on the ground. Eddie watches as he slowly trudges over to pick it up. He has to purposefully look away when Waylon bends over to pick up the piece of trash. 

A thought occurs to Eddie—it could be nice to have some ice cream to treat Waylon with when he’s being especially forthcoming in therapy sessions. “I’ll be right back.” He informs Waylon before opening the door and stepping back into the shop. He figures he might as well get a large tub of cotton candy ice cream, since he liked the flavor well enough as well. He orders the ice cream and waits for the clerk to find it in the back freezer. Eddie leans against the counter and watches Waylon through the windows. Eddie sighs as he watches Waylon look around the street. How different would life be if he and Waylon were married? They would probably go out and do things like this all the time. 

Eddie is disturbed from his musings by the clerk placing the tub of ice cream on the counter, the cash register ringing as she types in the amount that he owes. He hands her a card and waits for her to slide it into the chip reader. 

His body goes rigid when he hears Waylon shout, “Don’t fucking touch me!” Eddie spins around and sees a man lifting up his arms in a mock attempt to placate Waylon.

“Calm down—Jesus Christ, for an omega you’re real testy. I was just taking a sniff. You should take it as a compliment.” 

Waylon steps forward and shoves at the man. “Fuck you—who the fuck do you think you are?!”

The man reaches out and grabs at one of Waylon’s arms, twisting it awkwardly. “I think that I’m an alpha, and you—you’re just an omega.”

Eddie is moving before he even has time to think. Within seconds he’s abandoned the tub of ice cream and is breaking the man’s grasp on Waylon, grabbing the man’s arm, and pulling it into a painful position behind the man’s back. “Don’t you dare say another word to him.” Eddie growls into the man’s ear. 

“Ow ow ow! Okay, okay—I get it! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize he was your omega—didn’t even know he was claimed!” Eddie unconsciously shoves the man’s arm deeper into his back, eliciting another cry of pain from him. “Christ! Let go! You’re gonna break my arm!” 

Those words seem to sober Eddie up, and he jerks back to reality. He quickly releases the man’s arm and takes a step back, standing next to Waylon. The man turns around and rubs at his arm, glaring at both Waylon and Eddie. “Ya know, you can’t really blame the rest of the world for taking an interest in him when he smells like _that_. Why don’t you do everyone a favor and scent mark him or something? Fucking ridiculous.” The man begins to stalk off.

Eddie doesn’t move. He’s too shocked. He hadn’t even realized what he was doing—he had never threatened anybody like that before, but his alpha instincts took over. Waylon, however, is just angry. “Go fuck yourself!” He shouts after the retreating man. “Why don’t you try not being a creepy piece of shit?!” 

The man doesn’t even turn around, just continues stomping away. Waylon growls. “Un-fucking-believable. Can you believe this shit?!” Waylon huffs and shakes his head. “Fucking scum just acting like they own the world and everyone in it. God forbid that some people value their own personal space. Fuck.” 

Eddie is quiet as he stares at his hands—he still can’t believe that he had grabbed the man like that—practically broke his arm. He is startled out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Waylon looks up at him with worried eyes and a small frown. “Are you okay?” 

Eddie swallows and nods. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’ve just… I guess I’ve never done anything like…” Eddie waves his arms in the air. “ _That_ before.” Eddie turns his body towards Waylon, his cheeks turning red as he suddenly realizes that he should be embarrassed of himself, both for losing control like that, and acting like one of those brawns-over-brains alphas that Waylon detests so much. “I apologize for my behavior, Waylon. I don’t know what came over me… But that man was just so…” Eddie shakes his head as he lets the words die off on his lips. He starts walking back inside the ice cream shop, Waylon following close behind him. 

To Eddie’s surprise, Waylon beams at him. “Don’t worry about it, Eddie. That prick had it coming. Think of it this way—you provided the world a service by teaching that giant sleazeball a lesson.” Waylon jokingly pops his fist into Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie grins, and Waylon’s smile softens. “But seriously, thanks for standing up for me back there. You’re a good friend, Eddie. I’m lucky to have you looking out for me.” Waylon smirks before adding, “Not that I couldn’t handle that guy by myself, though.”

Eddie chuckles as he picks up his tub of ice cream from the counter, carrying it with them as they walk out the door and down the sidewalk. “Of course you could. I merely intervened to protect him. He didn’t know who he was trying to messing with.”

Waylon cackles and shouts out, “You’re damn right he didn’t!” 

Eddie cracks a smile. Waylon turns around and gives him a questioning look. “What?”

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s nothing, really.”

“No, you’re smirking. Tell me.” 

“I thought you said you were shy.”

“Shut up, Eddie!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie obviously would be the type of person who likes black and white films, but he also strikes me as someone who would enjoy a nice, deep foreign film. 
> 
> Anywho, this is probably the last fluffy chapter- it's gonna get dark in the next one, so hold on to your butts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the interest in the fic, everyone!

“Hey Eddie,” Eddie whips his head around to see Trager waving at him from down the hall. “I have a couple of questions for you about your day trip with Waylon yesterday.”

Eddie nods. “Sure, what would you like to know?”

“Well, the poor the kid is sick now—has a nasty fever.” Eddie reels back slightly. Waylon seemed fine last night when Eddie dropped him off at the clinic. Was he not feeling well while in town and Eddie missed it? “I was just wondering if you guys could have eaten something that gave him food poisoning?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, he only had gummy worms and ice cream while we were out. I ate the same thing, and I’m fine.” 

Trager nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s probably not it. Too bad, I was hoping it’d be something simple. Well, anything happen on that trip that might be helpful for us to know?” Eddie has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Trager’s wagging eyebrows. Really, the man goes too far with his inappropriate jokes. 

“No, not that I can… Actually,” Eddie puts his hand to his chin. “His scent was different while we were in town. What do you think that means?”

“Oh my god, really?” Trager raises an eyebrow. “You’re fucking with me, right, Eddie? Of course his scent was different—you shoved the kid in your oversized leather jacket.” 

Eddie brings his hand to cover his mouth as he grimaces. He had completely forgotten to take the jacket back from Waylon after their day trip. 

Trager barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “Yeah, oops! But whatever, who cares about that, anyway.” He waves as he starts retreating back down the hallway. He turns slightly and yells, “Go visit the kid! He looks like hell!”

Eddie stands there for a minute, thinking. He’s lucky that he and Trager are so close, and that Trager doesn’t suspect any foul play on his part. This looks bad. There’s really no way to properly explain offering his jacket to an omegan patient. Scent marking is a very intimate act, and he’s sure if Waylon had been paying more attention to any of his lessons on the matter, he would’ve refused Eddie’s jacket right away. Furthermore, he’s kicking himself for forgetting to mention Waylon’s change of scent to anyone after he dropped Waylon off. He had just felt so good after his outing with Waylon. He had gone home and practically floated around his house as he replayed the day in his head. 

Eddie starts taking steps towards the elevator. He might as well go up to the infirmary and make sure that Waylon is okay before he does anything else. 

The doors open to reveal nurse Jill, who is staring at the clipboard in her hands so intently that she would’ve bumped into Eddie had he not moved out of her way. 

“Oh, Eddie! Hiya, going up?” She asks, finally noticing Eddie and putting her hands on the elevator door so they don’t close and shut Eddie out. 

“Yes, I’m actually heading to the infirmary. Trager mentioned that Waylon got sick after our outing yesterday.” Eddie says, frowning. 

“Ah yes, he’s still running a high fever. Poor thing.” She moves out of the elevator and let’s Eddie board. “Oh, and he’s still clutching onto that leather jacket of yours for dear life; even though he’s unconscious, he won’t let anyone take it from him.” She smiles fondly at him before walking down the hallway.

Eddie travels to the second floor and takes large, fast strides to the infirmary. Eddie creaks the door open and quickly slips inside. He squints as he glances around the dark room. His eyes fall upon a mess of blonde curls and a thin body lying in one of the beds. 

Eddie frowns as he approaches the bed. Trager was right—Waylon looks awful. He’s covered in sweat, tossing and flinching in his sleep, and he looks as white as the sheet that he has kicked to the ground. Eddie can’t see much of his torso, Waylon’s hands are clutching Eddie’s leather jacket tightly against his chest, but it looks like Waylon’s t-shirt is stuck to his body with sweat. Eddie reaches out and slowly sweeps the hair that is plastered to Waylon’s forehead away. 

Eddie brings his hand down to cup Waylon’s cheek. “I’m really sorry, Waylon, I didn’t mean to let this happen to you…” He whispers. He tells himself that it’s time to pull his hand away and leave, but he can’t bring himself to extract himself from Waylon. His heart aches as he takes in Waylon’s red cheeks and labored breaths. How could Eddie not have noticed something was wrong while they were in town? It should have been obvious. Eddie’s thumb mindlessly caresses Waylon’s cheek as he studies the man’s features. Even when he’s sick, the man is still beautiful. 

His thoughts are interrupted by Waylon stirring in the bed. Eddie holds his breath, wildly considering how creepy this might be to Waylon—waking up with a large figure looming over him in his sleep. He starts to pull his hand away, but nearly gasps when Waylon’s sleeping form grabs at his hand and brings it back to his cheek. Eddie watches in awe as Waylon’s breaths slowly even out and his limbs straighten. After a few minutes, Waylon appears to be sleeping peacefully. 

Eddie’s heart speeds up, and his eyes dart around the dark room. There are other patients resting in other beds, will any of them notice if Eddie stands there basically holding hands with Waylon? He brings his attention back to Waylon, staring at his peaceful expression and listening to his soft snores. Maybe Eddie can risk it for a few more minutes. It’s worth it to see Waylon resting peacefully.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Later that day, Eddie is conducting a group therapy session. He’s nodding encouragingly while one of his patients shares with the group. All his other patients seated in the circle are smiling warmly at the sharing patient, affirming his words. Eddie’s head jerks up when he hears the piercing ringing of the fire alarm echoing throughout the room. The patients seated in a circle around him quickly cover their ears and look around the group, alarm evident on their faces. 

Eddie stands up and shouts loudly over the alarm, “Everyone, single file line, please.” His patients move quickly from their seats to a line at the door. Eddie takes in their wide, frightened eyes and adds, “I’m sure this is just a drill; regardless, we have standard procedure to follow. We’ll go outside to the front quad. Follow me.” 

He opens the door and leads the group into the hallway and towards the stairwell. They’re the only group currently having therapy on floor three, so there’s nobody else on the floor. It isn’t until they reach the stairwell that the smell of smoke hits Eddie’s nose. Apparently, this isn’t a drill. He continues leading them down the steps to the first floor, and ushers them out of the emergency exit at the bottom of the stairwell, leading the group outside. 

He points in the direction of the grassy knoll in front of the building, the evacuation assembly area, and counts the number of patients in his group as they walk over. He breathes a sigh of relief when he finds he hasn’t lost anyone. 

Other groups are beginning to flood out of the building and meet in the evacuation assembly area on the grass. Eddie is quickly rushing around, helping the other therapists take roll call of all their patients. 

“Eddie, thank God you’re out here already!” Eddie spins around and sees Trager, practically gritting his teeth. He’s sweaty and pale. “This is a real shit show. I don’t know who the fuck started this fire, but it’s our asses if even one person is left in there.” He shoves a piece of paper into Eddie’s hands. Eddie glances at the paper and quickly recognizes names of different patients. “I need you to run through this list and make sure that everyone on there is out here already, and uninjured. Once you’ve gone through yours, I need you to help the other therapists and orderlies.” Eddie looks up from the paper in his hands to see that Trager is already marching off to speak to someone else. 

Eddie quickly starts going through his list, asking patients if they’re okay. Most patients are a bit shaken up, but no one is hurt. Once he completes his list he turns to another therapist, asking if she needs help identifying the patients on their lists. She explains that everyone on her list is present and accounted for, and in good condition. 

Eddie looks around quickly, searching for another therapist to help. He also tries to spot a head of familiar, blonde, messy curls. Eddie’s brain races. Waylon was still sick in the infirmary a few hours ago, so he must have gotten help leaving the building—probably from an orderly, but which orderly was on rounds on the second floor today? 

Eddie’s head is whipping back and forth as he scans the sea of people. He sees nurse Jill and quickly makes his way over to her, squeezing through people to make his way through the crowd. 

“Albert Romero?” She yells. A man raises his hand and she scratches out his name on the list. “Are you okay—any injuries experienced during the evacuation?” The man answers no and she looks back at her list. 

“Nurse Jill, can I help you with your roll call?” Eddie asks, eyes already shifting through the group of people crowded around her, searching for Waylon.

The nurse vigorously nods and rips her page in half, handing him the half with only five names on it. She takes a few steps away from Eddie and quickly continues shouting the next name on her list.  


Eddie has gone through the first four names on his list—everyone so far is out on the grass and fine. He reaches the last name. “Waylon Park!” He yells. Everyone is glancing around quietly. He tries again, voice growing even louder this time. “Waylon Park!”

“Oh God…” Nurse Jill is pushing through the crowd towards him. “He went to infirmary showers about an hour ago—he had a fever he couldn’t get rid of—you don’t think he’s still—”

Eddie doesn’t even let her finish. He races to the front of the building, and is already starting to climb the steps to the clinic when someone grabs at his shoulder and yanks him around.

Trager is standing there, out of breath and glaring at him. “The fuck do you think you’re going, Eddie?”

Eddie whips around on his heels and continues towards the building, yelling over his shoulder, “Waylon’s still in there!” 

Eddie quickly takes off his lab coat and uses it to grab the door knob and open the front door of the lobby. Smoke quickly pours out of the front door, and Eddie brings his coat to cover his mouth. He ducks low and starts making his way through the lobby to the left wing. He doesn’t see any flames, but it’s still hot, much smokier than the east wing of the building that he led his group through earlier. 

Eddie bends down further as he veers out of the lobby and into the stairwell. The infirmary is on the second floor, but it’s getting progressively hotter as he climbs the steps. “Waylon!! Waylon?!” He bellows, praying to hear a response. 

He quickly exits the stairwell and turns onto the second floor. He can see flames licking the carpet at the end of the hallway. It’s unbearably hot, and squinting through the smoke is starting to make his eyes burn. “Waylon, where are you!?” Eddie shuts his eyes and starts moving based on his memory of the location. He takes a few crouched steps more, basically crawling to where he knows the door to the showers are. He doesn’t dare touch the door handle, instead, he starts pounding on the door with his foot. 

After multiple kicks, the door gives in. He hears the sound of running showers, and quickly spots a small body on the floor. 

“Waylon!” Eddie exclaims, racing towards the prone figure. Waylon is lying motionless on the tiled floor, the water from the shower still beating against his body. Eddie quickly checks for a pulse. He sighs a quick breath of relief—it’s weak, but there. The man is taking shallow breaths, but he’s at least still breathing. Eddie quickly picks Waylon up, wrapping him in his lab coat, and holding his face close to his chest. 

Eddie crouches even lower upon making his way back into the hallway. The building is even smokier, but he can still clearly make out the flames that are starting to completely envelope the other end of the hallway. He wastes no time in sprinting back to the stairwell, feeling the heat of the flames licking at his heels. He darts down the steps to the lobby, almost slipping he’s moving so fast. Eddie doesn’t dare open his eyes in the lobby, he shuts them tight and mutters, “So close, Waylon—we’re almost out…” He can hear the deafening screech of sirens approaching the building. Eddie feels his lungs burn. He’s no longer breathing enough oxygen—it’s just smoke. He coughs violently as he pushes his way through the front of the lobby, finally making it to the front landing. 

He stumbles down the steps and onto the front lawn, taking deep gasps of breath. He wobbles a few extra paces away from the building before placing Waylon down in the grass as gently as he can, still wrapped up in Eddie’s lab coat, and then collapses onto the grass himself. He is gasping for air when he notices Jill and Trager appear next to him, Trager shouting at Jill to check on Waylon. 

“Holy fuck—are you okay, Eddie?” Trager asks, his hands touching Eddie’s soot covered face. 

Eddie nods weakly, watching as Jill moves her stethoscope atop Waylon’s chest. Jill looks up at Trager and whispers, “Tell the paramedics to take him as soon as they get here.” 

Jill holds her hand up to Waylon’s forehead and frowns. She pulls down the lab coat that Eddie had wrapped him in. Her hands trace down his torso, stopping at his belly. Slowly, she separates his legs and runs her fingers across the bare skin there. She looks back up at Trager. “Just what I thought. He’s in heat.” 

Eddie’s heart feels like it stops beating. “What..? How is that possible?” He rasps out.

Trager speaks over him. “I thought you said that he wouldn’t be able to go into heat until the supressors completely left his system?”

“That’s what I thought, but…” She trails off and Eddie manages to sit up and get to his knees. With shaking hands he presses his fingers across Waylon’s chest. 

There, on Waylon’s shoulder, sits a little tattoo flame. A bond mark. Eddie feels lightheaded. How? Waylon isn’t even fully expressing his secondary gender yet, so how does he have a bond mate already? Eddie tries to stand up, suddenly feeling like he’s going to be sick. The world is spinning around him, and he’s having a harder time breathing than he was in the burning building. He hears voices yelling behind him, barely recognizing one of them as Trager. 

He feels himself fall forward and land on solid ground, feels the wet grass under his palms. He gives one more glance at Waylon, laying still in the grass on top of Eddie’s lab coat, his bare torso adorned with his bond mark and exposed to the cold, before his eyes roll backwards.  
\------------------------—————-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Eddie blinks as his body slowly adjusts to consciousness. His vision is a little fuzzy as he first wakes up, but he can make out the blurry face of Trager entering into his line of sight. Eddie shakes his head slightly and squeezes his eyes shut and opens them for a few moments, trying to wake himself up and clear his vision, until he’s able to clearly see Trager’s furrowed eyebrows and concerned pout. The memories of the fire and Waylon lying in the grass quickly come back to him. 

Eddie shoots up in his hospital bed, but Trager pushes him back down. “Don’t fucking try to overdo it! You came out of a burning building, for Christ’s sake!” 

Eddie coughs lightly, and Trager’s eyes light up with worry. Eddie tries to speak, but it comes out as a ragged whisper. “What…What happened to Waylon?” 

Trager pauses, and then smiles broadly at him. “Makes sense that that’d be the first question you ask, huh? The kid’s fine. Just has some really minor burns. The doctors are mainly monitoring him because he keeps having flash fevers. They’re calling it an episodic heat, or something like that.”

“So…” Eddie licks his lips, unable to properly form the sentence to ask what he so desperately needs to find out. “Is he…?” 

“Bonded? Yep.” Trager says, popping the ‘p’. “We’ve been waiting to inform his bond mate.”

Eddie feels his eyes sting with tears. He should be happy for Waylon. Really, he should, but he can’t help the overwhelming sense of grief that flashes through his whole body. He quickly brings his forearm to swipe at his eyes. He is aware that this is not okay—he is a doctor at an omega treatment facility. He should not be crying over one of his patients finally receiving a bond mark. But Waylon… He had never imagined that Waylon would be leaving so soon. 

When Eddie finishes wiping his eyes and looks up at Trager, the man is staring at him with an amused grin. “Are you done? Because if you are, I’d like you to roll up your sleeve already.” Trager points to his right arm. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow, but quickly does as he is told, rolling up the short, baggy sleeve on his hospital gown. His heart is beating so fast and so loudly in his own ears that he can barely hear Trager chuckling sitting next to him. 

Eddie gasps as his eyes meet a small flame tattoo sitting on his shoulder right above his bicep. “Congratulations!” Trager shouts as he jumps from his seat and whacks Eddie on the back. “I fucking knew you two were meant to be together! I called it!”

Eddie feels his eyes water once again. Hot tears fall down his cheeks and cascade past a face splitting smile. Waylon is his bond-mate. It all makes perfect sense. It is perfect. 

“I can’t believe this…” Eddie whispers in awe as he continues studying his tattoo. The bottom of the tiny flame is a brilliant white, which fades to yellow, then orange, and then a deep red. It looks almost too realistic. 

“Yeah, apparently that mini-heat that Waylon entered into the night before the fire was all your fault. When you two went out in public together for the first time his body must have started going into heat to try to entice you to claim him before any of the other alphas could. It’s basically unheard of, but essentially his body was pushing him to have his first heat ahead of schedule so he could be claimed by his bond mate, even before he had his bond mark.” If possible, his grin grows. “But, that’s Waylon, huh? Always an anomaly. Poor kid, being on suppressors for so many years really did a number on his system. He didn’t even know what going into heat felt like.”

Eddie looks up from his tattoo. “Is he going to be ok?”

Trager dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “He’ll be fine. He just needs lots of time with his alpha and then his body will get back on track.” Trager sighs. “I’m happy for you, but you have your work cut out for yourself here, Eddie. I just hope you know that going into this.” 

Eddie laughs. “Trager, I’ve been working with Waylon for the past four months, how could I not know that?” 

Trager nods and grins. “That little shit is going to have you wrapped around his finger in no time flat.”

Eddie beams. “He already does.” 

“Well I’m glad that you’re at least aware of it.” 

Eddie leans forward slightly in his bed, cringing at the burn in his chest. “So is Waylon at this hospital as well?”

Trager nods. “Yes, among other patients from the clinic. We’re currently figuring out where to transfer everyone to until Mount Massive gets renovated. The place is a fucking mess.”  
Eddie opens his mouth to inquire about Waylon once again, but Trager beats him to it. “Everyone except for Waylon. As soon as you’re discharged he’ll be going home with you.” 

Eddie’s eyes widen. He’s already feeling a little shaky. This can’t be real. “Trager, are you being serious right now?” 

Trager cocks his head and frowns. “I thought you would’ve been ecstatic to take your little firecracker home…”

“I am!” Eddie quickly clarifies. Speaking at such a volume must be too much for his lungs, because he starts wheezing.

Trager leans over to the table besides Eddie’s bed and grabs at a glass of water, handing it to Eddie. Eddie guzzles it down. He wipes some of the water that has dribbled down his chin away with the back of his hand and looks up at Trager. “I’m just concerned by the immediacy of change occurring for Waylon. Shouldn’t more be done to ease him into this?” 

“Some of the other doctors said the same thing. I’m convinced that Waylon can only start to embrace your bond mark once he’s fully experiencing life being bonded to you. He’s always been an all-or-nothing type of guy, and I think it’ll be better for him in the long run if he goes home with you as soon as possible. You’ll have the next month or so off until the two of you settle into your bond.” Trager must notice that Eddie still doesn’t look convinced. “Look, the guy’s resilient. If he’s put in a sink or swim situation we both know he’s gonna fucking swim. He’ll thrive with you, Eddie—I know it. And after making my case, all the other doctors think so too.” 

Eddie nods. Trager’s right. Waylon has been so against having a bond mate this whole time, but once he experiences it he’ll quickly realize how wrong he’s been. Besides, this isn’t actually that drastic of a change. Waylon and Eddie were already inseparable at the clinic, now they’ll just be together all the time at Eddie’s home. 

Trager stands up from the white, plastic seat next to Eddie’s bed and stretches his arms and back. “Welp, I just wanted to be the one to tell you the good news. Now that that’s done, I have an fire-happy alpha to deal with.” 

“Is that how the fire started?” Eddie rasps. 

Trager sighs. “It was one of the alpha patients brought in to meet with Dr. Glick. Apparently they didn’t do a proper pat down on the guy, which is fucking dumb, since he’s a known arsonist. He had a lighter and went to town in the interview room when they left him alone for a minute.” 

Eddie nods numbly. He can feel rage bubbling underneath his skin. If he hadn’t noticed Waylon’s absence outside… Well, he doesn’t even want to think about it. 

Trager walks towards the door and turns to wave over his shoulder at Eddie. “Feel better, big guy! I’ll be back to see you tomorrow!”

Eddie smiles as he waves back, saying a quick, “Bye” that grates his throat. He settles back in his bed and contemplates how absolutely perfect everything is.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Soon after Trager leaves, a hoard of doctors enter Eddie’s room, poking and prodding at his chest, and demanding he open his mouth or take a deep breath. Apparently, it’s a miracle that his lungs are still functioning properly after all the smoke that he inhaled. 

They tell Eddie that they want to run a few more diagnostic tests, but once they finish he can go see Waylon. Eddie sits back and complies with every request they ask of him. 

When Eddie finally slips into Waylon’s room, Waylon is sitting up in bed and staring out of his window. He looks over in Eddie’s direction when he hears the door shut. Waylon stares at him as he moves towards Waylon and sits down in the plastic seat next to his bed.

“Can I see it?” Eddie whispers, hands already reaching towards Waylon’s sleeve. 

Waylon looks away, mumbling, “Why, you have the same one, don’t you?” Eddie pays him no mind, and instead starts to move the fabric of Waylon’s hospital gown out of the way until his eyes rest upon the little tattoo bond mark. The flame is identical to the one on his shoulder, but it still takes his breath away. He can’t stop himself from reaching out his finger and gently touching it. 

“It’s gorgeous.” Eddie whispers. The art is beautiful, subtle and simple, yet delicate. Eddie is literally shaking with excitement. This intricate little design marks Waylon as his. 

Waylon snaps his attention back to Eddie and quickly paws at his sleeve, pulling it back down to cover his arm. He stares at Eddie before asking, “So, you really are happy about this?” 

Eddie’s head tilts to the side, lines forming between his eyebrows. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

Waylon releases a frustrated huff of air. “Eddie, seriously. You’ve been working with me since I came to Mount Massive, you know who I am. You’re bonded with an omega that doesn’t want to be an omega. Doesn’t that bother you?”

Eddie chuckles. “No, I’ve always liked that part of you, Waylon. You’re such a joyful and intelligent person, but you’ve got a fiery personality. I don’t expect that to change just because you’ve discovered you’ve got a bond mate.” 

Waylon glares at him. “You’re not hearing me. I’m telling you that I don’t want to enter into this bond.” He sighs and eyes Eddie carefully. “Eddie, what would you do if I told you no—if I refused this bond?”

“Well, I guess we’d continue with your therapy, and see if that helps matters.” Eddie smiles sadly at him. “We’ll figure this out, darling.” Waylon quickly blanches at the nickname, but Eddie keeps going. “No matter what, I intend to find a way to make this work.”

“And I intend to stifle the bond.” Waylon growls. 

Eddie quickly shakes his head. “Don’t you see? This is how things were supposed to be from the beginning—this was meant to happen years ago. I’ll always take care of you—take care of everything. Everything will be perfect, finally, like it was meant to be.” Eddie can feel tears springing to his eyes again. This is his second time today crying tears of joy. Waylon leans away from him, finding more than tears springing to Eddie’s eyes. Mania is there as well. 

“Eddie,” Waylon speaks softly. “I know that you think now that we have the bond marks that everything will be fine, but it won’t be. I can’t be the perfect little obedient omega that you want me to be—the one that you’ve always dreamed of. I just can’t. It’s not who I am, and you know that.”

Eddie rapidly shakes his head, reaching out and grabbing one of Waylon’s hands in a tight grip. “No, no, no, darling, that’s not what I want from you—you’ve got this all wrong! I only want you. I don’t expect you to be anything else besides yourself.”

Waylon smiles sadly. “I wish I believed that. Maybe this could actually work if you did.”

Eddie frowns. “This will work.” He states firmly, his grip tightening on Waylon’s hand. He forces a smile to his face. “You only just presented as an omega, so it’s completely natural that you don’t feel comfortable with the idea of being bonded to an alpha. It’s not your fault.” Eddie blames the filth known as Miles for that—for confusing Waylon and telling him that he could be a beta, if he only tried hard enough to pass. 

“You’ll see, over time you’ll feel more comfortable with an alpha.” Eddie explains confidently. He is intimately aware of how this process works. It’ll start with subtle changes—at first, his scent will slowly become a comfort to Waylon. Then, Waylon will crave Eddie’s presence. Once Waylon’s body adjusts to being an omega, they’ll solidify the bond by mating. From that point on, Waylon will depend on Eddie’s presence. Even if Waylon is nervous about being bonded to Eddie, time and biology are on Eddie’s side. Eventually, Waylon will come around. 

Waylon sighs and stares at the white hospital sheets covering his lower body. “Even though you say you want me, you still expect me to act like an omega. You want more from me than what I’ve given you so far.”

Eddie’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Well of course, darling. Eventually. This is the normal course of behavior. Learning about omega-alpha dynamics at Mount Massive was one thing, but I fully believe actually having a bond mate will be the most helpful aspect of your recovery. I’m not expecting you to quickly transition into your role in this relationship, though, I know that it’ll take time.” Eddie pauses and adds. “And I want you to know that I’ll love you because you are you, not simply because you’re my omega. I loved you long before you got that bond mark on your shoulder.”

Waylon brings his eyes to Eddie’s, fixing him with a serious stare. “Eddie, if you truly do love me for me, then you’ll let me go. End things now.” Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but Waylon speeds on ahead, frantic to explain his feelings. “You’ve been a good friend to me, but I’m not prepared to be owned by you. I don’t want to be owned by anyone, and I don’t want to sit back and wait for my biological impulses to change my mind. I want to be free, Eddie, and I can’t have that as a bonded omega.” Waylon’s eyes are misty as he searches Eddie’s face for a trace of understanding. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to give my freedom up for anyone, not even you.” 

Eddie swallows thickly, his face darkening. He had really hoped that Waylon was further along in his recovery than this. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” He stands up and brushes off his pants. He looks casually over at Waylon in the hospital bed. “I’ll be back tomorrow to collect you.”

Waylon shoots upwards in his bed, instantly regretting it as he remembers the pain pulsing through his body. “Wait, I’m going back to the clinic? Already?”

Eddie’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “No. You’re coming home with me. It was unanimously decided by both the doctors here and at the clinic that you should be in the care of your bond mate.”

Waylon is violently shaking his head. “No way—no. This can’t be happening.” 

Eddie turns and makes his way towards the door, stopping before grabbing the knob. He continues speaking as if he’s bored, like they’re having any trivial conversation. “Being in the presence of your bond mate will speed up your healing process.”

Waylon narrows his eyes. He knows that Eddie is conveniently leaving out the fact that proximity is also one of the most effective methods to strengthen a bond, basically forcing Waylon’s body to accept its status as an omega faster. “It’s also the best way to make sure that biology runs its course and gives you what you want, isn’t it?”

Eddie stops and turns around to face Waylon. “It is. And is that such a bad thing? I’ve waited for this for thirty years—waited for you, Waylon. Even if you say that the very fiber of your being is against this bond, my whole essence would give up everything I have for it.” Waylon can see Eddie’s chest heaving heavily as he struggles to maintain steady breathing. “I’m not letting you go, Waylon. Ever. And with time, you’ll be so thankful that I decided to stick it out with you, even though it’s not what you want right now. But you and I were meant to be together—I understand that clearly, and I’m going to help you understand that as well.” 

Waylon feels his blood run cold. He’s at a loss for words. This isn’t right. This can’t be happening.

Eddie approaches the bed and kisses Waylon’s temple before leaning in and whispering into his ear, “I knew the second I saw you that you were special. Different. Part of me knew that you were mine.” Eddie straightens his body and stands up to his full height. “And you can say what you want, darling, but part of you knew that too. You continued to seek out my presence, knowing full well that it would end this way.”

“That’s a lie.” Waylon sniffs. Tears are cascading down his face. “I thought you were my friend.”

Eddie’s features warm and he brings a hand to cup Waylon’s cheek. “Waylon, darling. I am your friend. I’m your everything.”

Eddie’s thumb brushes away the tears from Waylon’s face. “Don’t cry, love. You’ll see—you’ll be so happy. We both will be.” 

Waylon is still crying when Eddie spins around on his heels and walks out of the room. It’ll be tough for a while, Eddie knows. After all, Waylon never finished his recovery course, but Eddie will be there to make sure that Waylon is ok. It’s his job as Waylon’s alpha, and eventually, Waylon will come to accept that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank god Mount Massive burned, because if I had to write one more scene with that goddamn elevator… Lol
> 
> So originally I was going to have this be the last chapter, but I was going to end it with Eddie driving to the dump to ditch his tattoo kit that he inherited from his father. I had originally planned to imbed within the story that his father was a tattoo artist and had given Eddie’s mother and himself their own bond marks. Eddie was going to slip some drugs into the ice cream he had given Waylon, and then gave Waylon the tattoo bond mark while he was passed out. He knew that nobody would look into the bond mark the two received too closely, since Trager had already suspected that they were supposed to be bond mates. After writing the first chapter I decided to take this a different route. I thought the idea was fun, and kind of brought out a different side of Eddie, but I wanted to write the both of them even more unhinged than that. So yeah, more of that is on its way.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I have any specific tags to add for this chapter. 
> 
> Eddie takes Waylon home from the hospital.

It’s mid-morning when Waylon’s doctor shows up and starts going through items on her checklist for his discharge. He’s barely injured—just some really minor burns, so it’s all fairly simple things—how to care for his burns, when to put on ointment, and how long the healing process will take. Waylon is feeling extremely groggy, as he slept extremely poorly the night before, so he sits there and tries to restrain himself from yawning as he listens to his doctor. He jumps when he hears a light tapping on the door. 

His doctor pauses her lecture and takes a few long strides towards the door, opening it to reveal a jubilant looking Trager followed by Eddie, who appears equally excited. The doctor looks at the pair for a moment and then turns back to Waylon, continuing on with her spiel. Waylon nods as he follows along with his doctor’s explanation, but finds himself fidgeting nervously and glancing between Eddie, who is shuffling his feet in the doorway, and his doctor. 

Eventually, his doctor sighs and faces Trager. “I want to talk to his alpha to make sure that his recovery needs are properly met. Where can I find him?” The doctor is eying Trager with a bored expression when Eddie quickly straightens from his position leaning against the door frame.

“That’s me.” Eddie announces, standing tall. Watching how absolutely delighted and proud Eddie looks makes Waylon’s stomach roll. It’s a good thing he felt too nauseous to eat breakfast earlier, or he’s certain he’d be heaving. 

The doctor looks to Eddie and starts writing things down on a notepad, explaining Waylon’s recovery process to him as she writes it down. 

Waylon stares at them with narrowed eyes. Sure, he might have been a little distracted, but it’s more than a little belittling that the doctor doesn’t believe that he can follow simple directions by himself. He blinks and his head reels back slightly as something soft collides with his head. He looks down on his lap to see a furled-up sweatshirt. 

“It’s one of Eddie’s old sweatshirts.” Trager shrugs, adding, “All your clothes from Mount Massive got ruined in the fire, so I figured you can borrow this from Eddie. You’ll have to leave in the sweatpants you’re wearing, though.” 

Waylon lifts up the sweatshirt and glares at it. The thing’s definitely been well worn—the navy colored fabric looks old and ratty, and it smells very strongly of Eddie. 

Waylon drops it on the bed and looks at Trager with a scandalized expression. “I can’t wear this thing—it’s huge! It’s basically a dress.”

“Since when have you ever been one to ascribe to normative gender roles? Just put it on, kid.” Trager commands. 

Waylon’s nose wrinkles as he picks the sweatshirt up between his thumb and index finger. “Do I really have to wear this?” He complains. 

“It’s either you put that on now by yourself or Eddie can help you put it on in a minute. It’s your choice.” 

Waylon huffs and quickly takes off the medical gown covering his torso and quickly wiggles his arms and head into the enormous sweatshirt. 

“Ok, no.” Waylon blurts out as he stands up next to his bed. When he straightens the sweatshirt out it’s basically down to his knees.

Trager starts cackling as he takes in the sight, but Waylon notices Eddie’s head jerk in their direction, clearly distracted from the doctor’s explanation by Waylon’s ridiculous appearance.

Waylon can’t help but throw his arms around himself at the look on Eddie’s face as his eyes sweep up and down Waylon’s form. Waylon tries to shrink away to nothing as he watches Eddie’s eyes widen, a soft smile taking over the larger man’s expression. 

Waylon knows that Eddie is in love with the idea of Waylon wearing his clothes. He’s probably in heaven right now—not only is he getting ready to take Waylon home, but he’s already got him wrapped up in his own scent. Waylon considers sticking his tongue out at Eddie, but he decides against it as he thinks the gesture would be misinterpreted as Waylon being playful or some bullshit like that. 

Trager must notice Eddie staring at Waylon in his sweatshirt, because he quickly explains, “You left this at my place a while ago. Being surrounded by the scent of his alpha can only help his transition.” 

Eddie nods and brings his attention back to the doctor in front of him. Or at least he tries to. He keeps glancing over at Waylon. 

The doctor eventually stops her ramblings, eyes hovering over to Trager standing next to Waylon’s bed. She gives him a warning glare. “Please try not to rile either of them up this morning. They need to rest and let their bodies _heal_.” 

Trager’s mouth drops open, a faux-appearance of hurt evident in his stance as he brings his hand to cover his chest. “I’d never! I’m just here to do one last counseling session before the love-birds fly home to their nest.”

Waylon visibly flinches at this—this unwelcomed reminder that he’s leaving with Eddie today. He knows that Trager has probably already filled out the necessary paper work. 

The doctor is shaking her head in Trager’s direction. “There’ll be time for counseling sessions in the future, but right now it’s imperative that the pair spend as much time as possible resting. I don’t want a scene like I walked into yesterday.” 

Ah yes, yesterday. Waylon almost feels a little embarrassed, but he’s not going to hold crying inconsolably two times in one day against himself, especially when he’s all but lost his right to do anything else. 

_Waylon weakly raises a hand to greet Trager._

_Trager whistles as he plops down in the plastic seat next to Waylon’s bed. “Wow, kid, you look like shit.”_

_Waylon huffs out a laugh before snapping, “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when your doctors leave your ass in a burning building.”_

_Trager rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, you’re fiiiine. And you know nurse Jill feels horrible about forgetting you.”_

_Waylon chuckles and gestures towards the huge vase brimming with flowers on his nightstand. “Yeah, I can see that.” His eyes return to Trager, who is wiggling around on the hard, plastic seat in an attempt to get comfortable. “So is Eddie okay? The doctors told me he’s the one who went back into the fire to get me.”_

_Waylon’s eyebrows are knitted with concern, and his lips downturned. Trager just huffs before mumbling, “Really, you two are so similar in how you worry about each other. It’s cute, really.”_

_Waylon raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”_

_“Eddie was so nervous about you the day you got sent to the infirmary. He went to visit you and stayed for well over an hour.”_

_Waylon chews on his bottom lip. He must have been really out of it, he thinks, because he doesn’t have any memories of Eddie talking with him or anything. He just remembers sleeping a lot, but he must have woken up at some point, because there’s no way that Eddie would have stayed so long hanging out with him while he slept._

_“Anywaaay,” Trager continues, reaching a hand up to his mouth to cover a yawn. “Christ, I’m exhausted. I feel like I haven’t slept in a week.” Trager shakes his head. “Like I was saying, Eddie is fine. He’s actually in this same hospital a few floors down. I’m sure he’ll come racing in as soon as he wakes up.”_

_Waylon smiles and sits back in his bed. He rolls his shoulders and exhales a huge breath, feeling relieved beyond words that Eddie is okay. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if his friend had gotten seriously injured because of him._

_Waylon notices Trager is still fidgeting in his chair, something he’s never really seen Trager do before._

_“I do have a question for you though, kid.” Trager starts._

_Waylon nods at him to continue._

_“Did the doctors…” Trager pauses and licks his lips. “Did the doctors mention anything about any marks or anything like that?”_

_Waylon blinks as he lifts up his arms and pointedly looks at his burns and scratches and then back at Trager. Obviously they discussed the minor burns that Waylon experienced._

_“No, not those marks.” Trager is frowning deeply at this point, and Waylon feels his heart start to pick up._

_Now Waylon is starting to squirm and sits up in his hospital bed. “Trager, I don’t know what you’re talking about… They didn’t mention anything else…”_

_He notices Tragers hand clutch the fabric of his pants at his knees tightly. He sits back, looking away from Waylon, bringing one hand to comb through his hair slightly as he sighs. “Jesus, kid, don’t look so upset about this. You knew this was gonna happen one day.” Trager returns his gaze to Waylon, a small smile on his lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”_

_Waylon’s hands are trembling as he nods._

_“I knew after the first week that Eddie was going to be your bond mate.” Trager’s smile grows. “Once you’re in the field as long as I’ve been, you get a sort of sixth sense for things like this.”_

_Waylon’s whole body starts shaking. He feels his body heat up uncomfortably, sweat beading up on his forehead. This can’t be true…_

_Even though he feels like he needs to throw up, Waylon forces himself to laugh. “You’re fucking around with me, aren’t you? I don’t h-have a bond mate.”_

_Trager stands up slowly and leans over Waylon’s body, hands quickly pulling on the fabric of Waylon’s hospital gown on his right shoulder. “Tada!” Trager exclaims._

_Waylon’s eyes widen as he takes in the small flame tattoo sitting there. What the fuck…_

_Trager plops back down into his chair, an easy smile resting on his face. “Ya wanna know the best part? Eddie has no idea!” Trager leans forward, rubbing his hands together and cackling. “He’s pretty much been mooning over you for the last four months, so he’s going to shit himself when he finds out.”_

_Waylon feels his eyes well up with tears. He looks between the tattoo on his shoulder and Trager for a moment. He brings one hand up to his mouth to cover his trembling lips._

_A gentle hand lands on his shoulder. Trager is looking at him with wide, honest eyes. Waylon quickly notes how out of place this expression looks on his face—Trager appears genuinely concerned, for once. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, kiddo. I know you’re freaked out right now, but soon you’ll see that this is the best thing to ever happen to you. I knew you and Eddie would be perfect for each other, and now your bond marks prove that I was right.”_

_“Trager,” Waylon’s voice cracks. Tears are now freely cascading down his face. “I don’t—I can’t—”_

_“Shhh, hush, now. You don’t have to be okay with everything right away. Nobody will expect that from you. We’re all aware that you’ll need time to settle into the bond. After all, you’ve barely begun to accept being an omega, but once that happens, everything else will click into place. You’ll see.”_

_Waylon stares up at Trager, shaking his head with wide eyes._

_Trager simply sighs and stands up. “I had hoped for a bit of a better reaction from you, Waylon. You should be thrilled, not everyone gets to be bonded to their best friend.”_

_Trager turns his head at the sound of a knock at the door. “Come in!” he shouts._

_A woman wearing a white lab coat enters, her broad smile falling as she takes in Waylon’s shaking figure. “What’s going on in here?” The woman’s eyes dart between Trager and Waylon._

_Trager smiles sweetly as he saunters towards the door. “Nothing, doc, just discussing his bond mark. That’s my specialty.” He gives the doctor a hardy smack on the back. “Now, I’ll get out of here and let you get to your specialty. I was almost a medical doctor, you know. Found the intricacies of the human body fascinating, but, of course, I decided I’d rather study the mind.”_

_Trager waves a quick goodbye to Waylon, “I’ll be seeing you later, Waylon! Rest up!” He continues out of the room, whistling as he makes his way down the hallway and away from Waylon’s room, where Waylon sits sobbing._

The doctor had done her best to try to calm Waylon down, bless her heart, but Waylon was near inconsolable. 

Waylon raises his eyes from the floor and watches Trager bring one hand to his head, saluting the doctor. “Yes mam. Just a quick talk, and then I’ll high-tail it out of here and outta your hair.”

The doctor stares at Trager warily for a moment before briskly walking out of the room. Trager watches her leave before rolling his eyes. “Christ, I’m glad I didn’t decide to going into medical practice—these doctors are no fun.” 

Trager hops up on Waylon’s bed. He spots a pudding cup on the table next to the bed and peels off the lid. He hazards a quick glance at Waylon. “I take it you’re not going to eat this?”

Waylon shakes his head, eyes trained on the ground. 

“Mmm, this is so delicious. I can’t remember the last time I had pudding.” Between a mouthful he takes his spoon and points it towards a small stack of papers on counter. “Eddie, I need you to fill those out before you leave with Waylon today. It’s the paperwork transferring him from my care to yours.”

Eddie quickly makes his way over the counter. His eyes dance across the pages, a small smile on his lips as he reads through the documents. Waylon sits frozen to the spot as he watches Eddie fly through the forms. He knows what Eddie is so eager about, knows that those forms that Trager has already signed transfers his custody over Waylon, as his doctor, to Eddie, his alpha. Waylon watches in dread as Eddie’s hands fly across the pages, neatly forming signatures and initialing inside the designated boxes.

Waylon feels a sob rising up in his throat. He blinks rapidly to hold back the tears. This can’t be happening, he thinks. His eyes are still burning, so he shuts them tightly. This whole thing feels like a nightmare. He woke up this morning praying that he was dreaming, that everything was a hallucination caused by his lingering fever, but then noticed the tattoo bond mark on his shoulder, and reality came crashing back down on him. 

His eyes are still shut tightly, but he hears soft footsteps approaching him, stopping in front of him. When Waylon opens his eyes, Eddie is staring at him. Waylon meets Eddie’s gaze for a moment, but quickly drops his sight back to the floor. Eddie’s eyes are too intense. Too full of adoration.

Waylon can hear Trager humming happily as he digs a spoon into the pudding cup. He feels a hand cup his cheek. Eddie leans in, placing his nose in the juncture between Waylon’s neck and his shoulder, and inhales deeply. 

Waylon feels his face burn, but not out of embarrassment. No, he’s angry. In fact, he’s livid. Is Eddie just going to pretend like he didn’t just sign a legal document that binded Waylon to him, that essentially granted Eddie ownership over Waylon? Is he just going to act like yesterday’s conversation didn’t happen? Waylon had told him no, and he had meant it. Eddie has to know that Waylon is _devastated_ right now. 

Waylon reaches his hands up to Eddie’s chest to give him a good shove, but his hands pause. He takes in Eddie’s scent—he smells earthy, like cedar with a hint of fire, and it makes him feel a little light-headed. His hands move by themselves, reaching up to hook over Eddie’s shoulders and around his neck. 

Waylon practically shivers when Eddie pulls him closer, pressing the smaller body tightly against his own. 

God, their bodies slot together so perfectly, Waylon thinks. And Eddie is warm, and he smells so _good_. There’s a heavy fog that seems to be clouding Waylon’s mind that sings _belong_ and _mate_. A hand is rubbing up and down Waylon’s back, and lips are tracing kisses up and down his forehead, and what was he so mad about a moment ago? Waylon honestly can’t remember right now, but allows himself to cherish this moment of peace and tranquility. 

“Darling…” Eddie murmurs against his ear, the man’s breath tickling the sensitive skin there. Waylon feels his hands slide down Eddie’s arms and reach the front of his chest, fists tightly holding onto the fabric of his shirt. He closes his eyes and rests his head against Eddie’s chest. 

“Wow,” Waylon jumps when he hears Trager’s voice behind him. He quickly pulls away from Eddie, eyes swiftly landing on Trager, still sitting on the bed and snacking on the pudding cup. “Save a little something for when you get home, you two.” Trager orders. The man has the largest grin on his face that Waylon has ever seen.

Waylon hurriedly shakes his head, trying to clear it of its fog. Eddie still has a hand resting on his shoulder that Waylon smacks away. “What the fuck was that?” He seethes, glaring at Eddie and then Trager. 

Eddie, the asshole, has the gall to continue smiling at him. “That was our bond, Waylon.”

Waylon takes a step back, but his back immediately hits the large hospital bed. He looks wildly to Trager, wide eyes imploring him to explain.

Trager is licking the white, plastic spoon, smacking his lips. “He’s right.” Trager begins, as he dives his spoon back into the pudding cup. “That probably felt real good, yeah? That’s the manifestation of your bond with Eddie. It’s new, but judging by your reaction, it’s already pretty damn strong.” 

Eddie makes to take a step closer to Waylon, but Waylon darts out into the center of the room, away from him. “Don’t fucking touch me!” He points a finger at Eddie, shaking his head furiously. “Y-you did something to me! Something with your scent!” 

Trager looks up from his pudding cup once more, tilting his head and looking at Eddie with amused, crinkled eyes. “Eddie, are you already using your pheromones?”

Eddie simply shrugs.

Trager lets out a hearty laugh. “You dog! To think, one day into your bond, and you’ve already mastered the art of calming down your omega.” Trager rubs his hands together enthusiastically. “With the way your bond is progressing, the rest of Waylon’s recovery is going to be a piece of cake.” He digs back into his pudding cup. 

Waylon’s heart is still racing. Eddie attempts a step towards him, but Waylon quickly takes one in retreat. “I’m serious, Eddie, don’t come near me.”

Eddie chuckles at this, warm and full. “Waylon, darling, come now. I know this is all very scary to you, but this is why Trager is here,” he gestures towards the man who has hopped up onto Waylon’s bed, “he’s going to explain the intricacies of our bond a little better to you, so you’re not so overwhelmed.” Eddie takes another step forward. “Besides, you can’t ask an alpha to stay away from his omega.” Eddie smiles wolfishly at Waylon, who scrambles to the other side of the room, desperate to put some distance between himself and Eddie. 

Trager is staring down at the empty plastic pudding cup in his hand. He frowns and then places it and the spoon back on the table next to the bed before jumping off of the mattress. “Might as well get to it.” He looks at Waylon and points to the bed. “Take a seat, kid.” 

At first, Waylon doesn’t move. He’s not particularly motivated to comply with demands from either of them right now, but when a large hand finds its way to the small of his back he lurches forward and jumps up on the large hospital bed, making sure to spread out, taking up as much room as possible. 

Eddie, thankfully, seems content to stand next to the bed. Trager stands in front of them, facing the pair with a small, satisfied smirk. “Well, here we are. Exactly where I knew we’d be.” 

Eddie snorts at this. “There’s no way you could have predicted that we’d be having this conversation in the hospital.” 

Trager simply shushes him and continues on, speaking even louder. “As I was saying, this has been a long time coming, but here you two are.” Waylon feels his stomach twist. Was Waylon the only one who didn’t know what was happening this whole time? He’s been tricked, he thinks. This whole time Eddie and Trager claimed to want to help him, but they didn’t. They just wanted to package him up in a neat little box so he could go home with Eddie and be the pretty thing that sits on his shelf.

“Had you actually attended more of your classes at Mount Massive, we wouldn’t need to have this conversation.” He levels Waylon with tired eyes. “But, I’m guessing you didn’t retain much from the classes that you actually attended, either.” 

Waylon sees Eddie’s back go ram-rod straight, his chest puffing up as well. Trager waves his hand at him. “Relax, big guy, I’m not calling him stupid. Quite the opposite, in fact. Waylon does what he wants, whatever interests him, and ignores all the rest.” Trager smiles broadly at him. “That’s a quality I deeply admire, actually. A smart man knows when he can get away with giving minimal effort.” 

Waylon watches as Eddie’s shoulders relax and he leans against the bed. 

“And since you’re such a smart cookie, Waylon, I’ll tell you right now how this whole transition will go: giving into the bond is going to simultaneously be the easiest and hardest thing you’ve ever done.”

Waylon frowns, eyebrows knitted in confusion. He absolutely hates it when Trager tries to sound like a fortune cookie. The man seems to get off in speaking in riddles. 

“Giving in to the bond is going to feel so good, but knowing you, you’re going to fight it every step of the way, so it’s going to suck ass.” Trager finishes. 

Besides him, Eddie clears his throat loudly. “Must we paint his transition in such a negative light already?” 

Trager looks at Eddie as if he’s said something incredibly dumb. “Well how the fuck would you like me to paint it? I’m not Van Gough, I can’t make this shit look good.” He shakes his head at Eddie and brings his attention back to Waylon. “I bet you’ll have a lot of questions, and we intend to answer them all. We want you to be well-informed. Obviously, Eddie is also an expert in the field, but we also plan to have you continue therapy with someone who isn’t your bond-mate.”

Eddie growls lightly. “You didn’t tell me that. Who will he be working with?” 

Trager cackles lightly. “God, you are such a stereotypical alpha! If I told you he’d be working with me, would that help curb this sudden possessive streak?” 

Eddie nods mutely. 

“Good, because I plan to continue heading up his therapy. I’ll be meeting with him once a week for one-on-one therapy, and both of you together twice a week.”

Waylon raises his hand. “I’m confused. I’m not going back to Mount Massive, but I’m still getting therapy? I thought you were discharging me…” 

“Well, technically, you are discharged. But Mount Massive conducts out-patient therapy as well.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Since when?”

“Since our rehabilitation center burned to the ground.” Trager deadpans. 

“Oh.” Eddie says, nodding. 

Waylon’s tongue darts out to lick at his dry lips. “So, since we’re continuing my therapy, if things go bad… Can we reevaluate?” 

Eddie turns his head to look at him, a horrified expression on his face. Trager slaps at his leg. “That’s a good one, kid! Reevaluate!”

Waylon’s eyes dart between the two. “I’m serious.” He adds. 

“No, Waylon. There is no reevaluating the situation. You and I are bond mates. I’m your alpha. We’re going to make this work.” Eddie’s voice holds no room for argument. His hand reaches up to the bed to give Waylon’s hand a tight squeeze. 

“What would you even reevaluate? Do you want us to test that you’re still an omega? Check the authenticity of your bond-mark?” Trager chuckles again. 

Waylon opens his mouth, but takes in the stern expression on Eddie’s face and closes it. He knows he has to continue fighting, voice how well and truly pissed off he is by this whole situation, but he’s so tired. His rest the night before had been plagued by nightmares, and every time he woke up, he had to face the harsh truth that his reality is far more terrifying than any imagined terror his mind could conjure up. 

“We’re straying from the original point of this meeting.” Eddie grumbles, arms crossing over his chest. Good, Waylon is glad that he’s unhappy, too. Why should Waylon be the only one upset by the current turn of events? As they say, misery loves company. If Waylon needs to face the reality of being owned by Eddie, then Eddie needs to confront the reality that Waylon isn’t happy about it. Not one fucking bit. 

Trager snaps his fingers. “You’re right. This was supposed to be a quick crash-course for Waylon before you two go home.” 

_Go home_. The thought makes Waylon dizzy. Soon, he’s going to be packed into Eddie’s car and shipped off with him. And there’s nothing Waylon can do about it. Eddie just signed away his rights. 

“So, and this is as much for your benefit as it is for Waylon’s, Eddie, I’m going to inform you both of how this next month should go.” Trager pauses to ensure that the pair is paying attention. Eddie nods in response and Waylon simply sighs, bracing himself for the awfulness that his life will consist of for the foreseeable future. 

“First of all, you two will need to spend as much time as possible together. I’m talking cooking, cleaning, chores—anything that you can do, you two need to be doing together.” Trager smirks. “So, it obviously won’t be too different than your time together at Mount Massive.” 

Waylon scowls. For some reason, that comment burns. Sure, he had spent a lot of time with Eddie at Mount Massive, but this is different. The man standing next to him now isn’t the man that he called his best friend just days ago. _His_ Eddie wouldn’t do this him. _His_ Eddie would patiently listen to him, point out the flaws in his reasoning, sure, but he would never force his own will upon Waylon. 

“Next, you two need to engage in plenty of physical intimacy.” Waylon blanches, which causes Trager to chuckle. “Calm down, kiddo, I’m not saying you guys need to do the dirty. At least not yet.” Trager quickly winks at Eddie. “But you two will be craving physical touch from one another, and it’ll be painful to fight this craving.” He looks at Waylon warily. “Whether it’s just making skin to skin contact briefly, holding hands, cuddling, whatever, you two will be better off if you follow your body’s prerogative for physical closeness with your bond mate. I promise you both, you’re in for the best nights of sleep you’ve ever had in your life. The simple act of touching while sleeping will do wonders for your unconscious psyche.”

Waylon rears back, Eddie quickly turns to look at him with knitted eye brows. “I wonder,” Eddie starts, turning his attention back to Trager, occasionally darting his eyes back to look at Waylon, “if we might wait to share sleeping accommodations until Waylon is a bit more comfortable? Maybe just a week or two?”

Waylon can’t help himself from breathing a sigh of relief. There’s a bit of the old Eddie, the Eddie that looks out for him and tries to make sure Waylon is only having thrown at him what he can handle.

Trager frowns as he slowly shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. This time is imperative for Waylon, and the long duration of physical touch that occurs each night will be instrumental to acclimating Waylon to the bond. Even healthy beta couples need to be touching each other at night in order to promote happy relationships.” He flicks a finger at Eddie and then points it at Waylon. “Same. Bed.” 

Trager smiles brightly once more and points to Waylon’s oversized sweatshirt. “Waylon, as much as you can you need to surround yourself with Eddie’s scent. Trust me, you’ll need it. But, if you’re following steps one and two, then this shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“And my personal advice—go out. Have fun. You two have been cooped up at Mount Massive doing the same things for so long, it’s a wonder you two aren’t sick of each other.”

“Last time we went out in public, Waylon suffered from a flash heat shortly after…” Waylon notices him nervously pulling at his fingers. “If we go out in public, that won’t happen again?”

Trager purses his lips together and then shrugs. “I dunno. Probably not. Last time his body was trying to entice you to claim him before another alpha could, so I’d guess that that probably wouldn’t happen again now that you both have bond marks. But, even if it does happen, what’s the harm? You know how to take care of Waylon if he enters into a heat, don’t you, Eddie?” Waylon ignores Trager’s smirk and looks at Eddie with wide eyes. He hadn’t even thought about that yet… Eventually, he’s going to be expected to complete the bond during his heat.

Eddie turns to him, blushing. He must take in the stricken expression of panic on Waylon’s face, because he quickly adds, “Don’t worry, Darling, your body won’t go into heat until you’re ready. I plan to wait until then.” 

“You really are old fashioned, Eddie.” Trager scoffs. “Bond mates are allowed to have sex outside of heats, you know that, right?” 

“Of course.” Eddie answers easily. “But I would like to respect Waylon’s boundaries as much as possible. We’ll finish the bond when Waylon’s ready.” Eddie turns and looks at him fondly.

 _Don't hold your breath_ , Waylon thinks. However, this is an unexpected and welcomed turn of events. He had thought that Eddie would be entirely too eager to complete the bond. Maybe… Maybe he can put this off long enough to figure out a plan, figure out a way to stifle the bond before it becomes too strong to squash. It’s rare for a fledgling bond between an alpha and omega to burn out, but not entirely unheard of. There’s even been reports of bond mates becoming separated due to some disaster—such as prison time, an illness, or even death—the point is, while having a severed bond is devastating, it’s not unbearable. It is possible to recover from. 

Waylon is snapped out of his thoughts by a gentle squeeze on his thigh. Waylon quickly meets Eddie’s eyes. Oh, he’s expecting a response from him. 

“Yes, I’d prefer to wait.” Waylon states, his voice hoarse and throat dry. 

Trager squints at Eddie. “Seriously? Again, this is only going to inhibit his acceptance of the bond. I know you’re trying to be cognizant of Waylon’s feelings, but you also need to be conscientious of his therapeutic progress as well. The more he engages in typical bond mate behavior, the faster he’ll accept his status as omega.”

Eddie is smiling knowingly at Trager. “I’m well-aware. I’ve been with Waylon for the past four months, Trager. I know all about the importance of his therapeutic mile stones. But this is more than his recovery to me. I’m his alpha, and I need to know that I’m doing right by him. Even if it means being patient and giving him more time to acclimate.” 

Waylon feels his heart swell. There’s another glimpse of his friend. Maybe he won’t have to squash the bond, maybe Eddie will eventually come to understand how Waylon feels. Maybe Eddie will let him go. 

“Fine. But promise me you’ll reexamine the situation when you find that coddling him isn’t effective.”

Eddie chuckles warmly. “I promise.”

“Ugh, I don’t like this.” Trager grimaces. “I’ve never had to readjust my therapeutic techniques for an alpha before. God, I wish you weren’t a doctor.”

Eddie chuckles again. “I thought you were enjoying sharing Waylon as a patient with me?”

“I thought so too.” Trager mumbles.

Trager quickly stands up and places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, giving him a firm pat. “Well, big guy, I think that about covers it.” He eyes Waylon fondly. “I don’t want to overload you with too much information at this point—we’ll keep chatting about bonds in our future sessions. Do you have any pressing questions before I unleash you out into the world, short stack?” 

Waylon just shakes his head. He knows there’s other things he should be asking. _Why are you letting this happen to me?_ And _I told you no, why aren’t you listening to me?_ But he just feels exhausted. And sick to his stomach. He just wants to lie down and sleep, allow himself to pretend this isn’t actually happening to him. Hell, he’d welcome the nightmares at this point, just to distract him from the hell he’s being forced to endure. 

Trager is grinning as he looks between them both. “Well, I guess I’ll see you both in a few days then.” Waylon slides off the bed and stands awkwardly in front of Trager. He’s not certain of what he should do. Is he just supposed to follow Eddie and leave…?

“What are you waiting for, a hug? Shoo!” Trager starts herding Waylon towards the door, with Eddie quickly following behind them. 

As they saunter down the hallway, Waylon keeps looking around frantically, trying to catch the eyes of doctors passing by, his own eyes silently pleading for someone to stop them. Surely, one of them has to pick up on his discomfort. Maybe even suggest waiting to discharge him until he’s come to terms with having a bond mate. He had been silently rehearsing how he would respond if a doctor asked if he felt comfortable or ready to go home with Eddie. None of them ever did.

Trager marches along with them until they reach the elevator. “Well this is where I leave you. I need to get a copy of your discharge papers, Waylon.” He starts backing away. “Good bye, lover-boys—have fun!” He’s a few paces away before his head whips around and he adds, “but not too much fun!” 

Waylon stands there and listens to Trager’s cackling disappear down the hallway. He slowly turns to face Eddie. “So. Do we need to tell anyone we’re leaving? Or do we just…?” He looks briefly towards the elevator. 

Eddie reaches up and presses the down button. “We’ve both been cleared to leave and discharged, so we’re free to go. Did you have any final questions for your doctor or anything?”

Waylon shrugs his shoulders. “Not really.” 

“Okay, then we should probably go. We need to get you settled at home.” Eddie’s wide and overeager smile is back again, and it makes Waylon’s stomach churn. 

The elevator doors open and Eddie gestures Waylon to go in front of him. Waylon had always hated when Eddie had insisted on Waylon walking through doors first, or when Eddie would pull up a chair for him. With a sigh, Waylon steps onto the elevator. He nudges his elbow into the ground floor button and leans back against the wall. 

Eddie stands huddled next to him, the large smile still overtaking his face. Waylon crosses his arms over his chest and tries to zone out, but he can still see Eddie’s stupid smiling reflection in the shiny elevator walls. He brings a hand up to rub at his eyes. God, he feels exhausted. What he wouldn’t give to be back at his apartment in Boulder. Hell, he’d even take his little room at Mount Massive at this point. 

The elevator dings and the door opens. Waylon quickly steps out and marches through the hallway, following the signs pointing towards the entrance. Eddie quickens his pace to match Waylon’s, making sure they are walking next to each other. 

The pair walks through the automated doors and exit the building. Waylon slowly comes to a stop when he realizes he doesn’t know where to go next. He doesn’t know what Eddie’s car looks like. He’s looking around the parking lot when Eddie grabs his hand.

“Come on. It’s this way.” He points with his head towards somewhere farther back in the parking lot. 

Waylon tests Eddie’s grip on his hand by gently tugging his hand away, but Eddie’s holding on tight. Waylon thinks he must be worried that Waylon’s going to bolt. Which, to be honest, is a fair thing to be worried about. Waylon’s not sure he’s entirely opposed the idea. 

Eddie begins humming, which makes Waylon grind his teeth. Of course Eddie is as happy as can be. The asshole. 

Eddie slows down as they approach a shiny, black Lexus, and Waylon raises an eyebrow at Eddie to inquire as to whether or not it’s Eddie’s car. Waylon assumes it is when Eddie pushes a button on his key bob while he rushes to the passenger door and opens it for Waylon. 

Waylon pauses before climbing inside. This is too much. Eddie has the door open wide, waiting for Waylon to climb in. Waylon bites his bottom lip and takes a step back. 

Eddie leans forward slightly, his whole body going taut, poised for action. Waylon realizes that Eddie really believes he is going to run, and he’s getting ready to chase after him, if it comes to that. 

Even though he knows he wouldn’t get very far, part of him is desperate to sprint off. He’s aware that Eddie would probably catch him in moments—he’s much taller than Waylon is, so that’s got to give him some sort of an advantage. And Waylon is just _so_ tired. He wants to run off in protest, demonstrate to Eddie just how he feels about this how situation. 

But…

With a shaky breath Waylon climbs into Eddie’s car. 

He hears his door shut followed by Eddie’s door opening a few moments later. Eddie quickly plops himself down in the driver’s seat and starts the car. He checks in his rear mirror and turns his head to look behind him before backing out of his parking spot.

His hands are shaking on the steering wheel.

Eddie notices Waylon watching his hands, and gives him a sheepish smile. “Forgive me, Waylon, I’m just so excited to take you home. I had honestly never allowed myself to dream that I might someday get to have this with you.” 

Waylon pointedly looks away and sinks down in his seat. While he might not be protesting the course of events via running away, he is more than happy to protest in other ways. He has no problem ignoring Eddie. Besides, his eyes are feeling heavy already, and the leather seats in Eddie’s car are very comfortable. 

“I’ve been making lists in my head of all the things we’ll have to get done all day. We’ll have to go grocery shopping soon. We can pick up things to make whatever you’d like.” Eddie pauses, undoubtedly trying to give Waylon space to respond. When Waylon doesn’t, he continues. “We should buy some ingredients so I can make you some more of my chicken tikka masala.” Oh yeah, Waylon had loved that. Eddie had eaten it during one of their therapy sessions and Waylon had stolen half of the dish. After that, Eddie brought in a little extra for Waylon every time he made it. 

Even though Waylon’s eyes are closed, he can tell Eddie is still smiling ear to ear—can hear it in his voice. “I can teach you how to make it now. And whatever else you’d like to make. Surely there’s got to be some meals you’ve missed?”

Waylon opens his eyes briefly and looks at Eddie with a blank face, resolute not to respond. He turns his attention to his passenger side window. 

“We’ll have to go shopping soon too. You had so few articles of clothing even before the fire.” Waylon makes out Eddie’s sly smile out of the corner of his eye. He is aware that Eddie is trying to goad him into conversation, as the man is well aware of Waylon’s opinions on clothing and fashion. If Waylon could, he’d wear the same exact outfit for the rest of his life. 

When Waylon remains silent Eddie changes tactics. “We can have some movie marathons and binge all the good stuff that you missed while you were at Mount Massive.”  


Waylon turns his body towards the window a bit more and slumps up against it. 

“And of course, we’ll have to pick up some essentials for you.” Eddie sounds down right giddy. “We’ll have to get you your own toothbrush, deodorant—whatever else you think you’ll need.”

Waylon’s shuts his eyes as he leans his forehead against the window, but they jump open when he feels a hand squeeze his thigh. He quickly looks over at Eddie, who is smiling dreamily at him. “We should also do some redecorating together. It’s not just my house anymore, and I want it to feel like home for you as soon as possible.” 

Eddie is looking at him so desperately, Waylon sighs and decides to throw him a bone, if only to calm him down a bit and push him to leave Waylon alone for the rest of the car ride. 

“Sure, Eddie.” 

The drive goes on for forever—or at least it feels like forever to Waylon. Eddie eventually stops blubbering on about all the different decoration ideas he has, but leaves his hand on Waylon’s knee, sliding his thumb back and forth and humming peacefully. 

Waylon lets Eddie’s humming lull him towards a sense of calm. He’s not asleep, but he feels like he’s getting close. His eyes open when he feels the vehicle come to a smooth stop. 

“This is it.” Eddie’s grin is huge. “You ready?”

Waylon feels sick, but he nods regardless. 

Waylon quickly opens his door before Eddie can race around the car and open it for him. He steps out and takes a look around. 

The driveway is huge—long enough that he can’t actually see the road that they turned off of. He starts to wish that he had kept his eyes open for the last few minutes, because he curious as to what the neighborhood looks like, especially since Eddie’s house appears to be so secluded. Maybe Eddie simply values his privacy.

He wasn’t sure what he expected Eddie’s place to look like—maybe a charming house with a suburban feel to it—complete with a white picket fence, but the house in front of him is very different from what he might have imagined. The house looks like a typical sized house, but has a very modern feel to it. It has an exaggeratedly slanted roof and slate grey tiles covering entrance way. The rest of the house is covered in some sort of ebony-colored wood. The front door is extra tall, and has a deep, black finish. 

He watches as Eddie fumbles with his key for a moment in the lock before pushing the door open. 

“Here it is.” Eddie reaches out to grab onto Waylon’s hand. “Welcome home.”

Waylon is sort of surprised that Eddie doesn’t insist on carrying him over the threshold of the household like some newlywed couple. He’s sure that if Eddie thought of it, though, that he would have.

Waylon’s eyes widen as he glances around from the entryway as he takes off his shoes. The inside of the house is just as modern and sleek as the outside. Even from his spot from the entrance way, Waylon spots a boxy-looking black, leather couch, and a coffee table that looks far too low to the ground. Must be new trend, Waylon thinks. 

Eddie bounds off and begins scurrying around, frantically cleaning and moving things around, even though the house appears spotless in Waylon’s opinion. 

The walls are all white, and it seems like Eddie chose to decorate the house in grayscale. There’s not much color. His rugs are plush and grey, and the couches are black leather. He does have some sporadic paintings on the wall with color, though. Mostly some abstract paintings that Waylon wouldn’t even dare to guess the price of. Although, there is one that catches Waylon’s eyes. Waylon walks across the living room to take in the painting. There’s a small looking cabin, surrounded by tall, green grass with some sporadic flowers. An old blue truck is parked in the dusty driveway. 

“Do you like that piece?” Eddie is suddenly standing next to him.

Waylon nods. “It looks beautiful.”

“My mother painted that. It’s our family’s cottage, actually.” His eyes light up as he looks to Waylon. “We’ll have to take a trip up there sometime. Nobody’s using it, and it’s just gorgeous up there. There’s lots of great spots for hiking.” 

That wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Ok.” Waylon just looks at Eddie and nods, but Eddie looks like Waylon just hung the moon. 

Eddie’s smile grows even wider. He grabs Waylon’s hand and starts pulling him around the house. “Come on, let me give you a tour.” 

“As you can see, this is the living room.” Eddie gestures to the large room. Besides the black leather couches sits an oddly-shaped, glass book shelf, filled with medical journals all in neat piles. It’s tucked up against a wall with exposed concrete brick. 

Outside of the journals on the book shelf and the art scattered throughout the room, there’s hardly any personal items of Eddie’s lying about, and Waylon can’t help but think that the place looks overly sterile. 

Waylon walks around the room, admiring how soft the plush rug feels on his bare feet. There’s a large screen tv on the wall facing the largest leather couch, but it appears dusty from disuse. Waylon approaches the tv and swipes a finger across its screen and turns to cock an eyebrow at Eddie.

Eddie smiles slightly and shrugs. “I guess I just have been busy with other things recently.” 

Waylon is almost a bit surprised that Eddie doesn’t jump up instantly to dust the tv, but instead gestures for Waylon to follow him into the next room with the flick of his hand. 

Waylon trails after Eddie through a wide, doorless-entry way, bringing them both into the kitchen. Waylon looks around briefly and lets out a whistle. He had thought Eddie’s tastes were expensive before, after surveying the living room, but that was nothing compared to the sleek kitchen full of shiny, new appliances. 

Eddie chuckles in response to Waylon’s whistle. “I really enjoy cooking.” Eddie leans on the large, white granite counter in the middle of the kitchen and watches as Waylon looks around with wide eyes. “I might have gone a little bit overboard with the kitchen, I’ll admit.”

“Just a little bit.” Waylon murmurs as he takes in the double-wide refrigerator. And is that a third oven? Why on earth would anyone need that many ovens?

A thought occurs to him and he turns and faces Eddie. “Wait, do you have a roommate?”

Eddie’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. When his laughter dies down, he cocks he head and fixes Waylon with a fond smile. Waylon stares at him for a beat, waiting for him to respond. It’s then that Eddie’s mouth drops open a bit and he adds, “Oh, you were serious. No, Waylon, I don’t have a roommate.” 

Eddie’s tone of voice sounds like he finds it odd that Waylon would even entertain the idea that Eddie could have a roommate.

“Then how on earth did you afford all this by yourself?” Waylon’s hands fan out to his sides, gesturing to the kitchen. “Does your family have money or something? Or are you just working to pay all this off?” Waylon’s aware that these are some personal questions, but he’s a bit too curious right now to be thinking about proper etiquette. 

Eddie’s eyebrows rise up towards his hairline. He looks equal parts amused and surprised, and almost disbelieving. “Waylon,” He says slowly, “are you aware of how much doctors make?”

Waylon squints his eyes as he thinks about it. Yeah, of course doctors make good money, but they’re also stuck paying off medical school bills for a while, right? And Eddie is still fairly young, so he’s got to still have a lot of debt to pay off. 

“And I don’t need to explain to you that I am considered an expert in my very specialized field.” Eddie sounds coy at this point. A part of Waylon wants to make a smart-ass comment, but he’s finding it difficult to come up with anything, so he settles with clarifying the situation at hand.

“So all this stuff…” Waylon’s eyes wander around the room before landing on Eddie. “This is all yours?”

Eddie quickly leans forward and grabs Waylon’s hand in his own. “Not anymore. It’s yours now, too.” 

Jesus Christ. Waylon thinks as he takes in Eddie’s eager expression. The man is watching him closely, still wearing a wide smile on his face. 

After a few seconds Eddie laughs, mistaking Waylon’s silence for speechlessness. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I know, it’s a lot to take in. And I’m aware that my taste in design can be a little… 

“Much.” Waylon helpfully supplies. 

Eddie rolls his eyes playfully. “I was going to say ambitious.”

“Oh.” Says Waylon. That’s one way to put it. So far, Eddie’s house looks more like a museum than a home. 

“Anyway, I should show you the rest of the house.” Eddie turns and exits the kitchen, craning his neck to see that Waylon is still following behind him, mouth tugging upward when he sees Waylon trailing closely behind. 

“Here’s the first bathroom.” Eddie stops and opens a door, flicking on the light switch and illuminating the small room. Again, everything is simple, yet modern. There’s a porcelain, floating sink coming out of the wall, and the shower on the far side of the bathroom is bigger than any Waylon’s ever seen before. 

“This one has a steam shower, so feel free to use it if you’re ever feeling under the weather.” He quickly flicks the light off and walks a few paces to the next door. 

“This will be your room. For the time being at least.” When Eddie turns on the lights Waylon can’t help but reel backwards slightly. 

He takes a step into the room and then turns to look at Eddie again. “Are you setting me up in the master bedroom? Because you really don’t have to do that, Eddie…”  


Eddie shakes his head. “This is the spare bedroom. Once you’re feeling more comfortable with things, you can transition to the master bedroom, with me.” 

Waylon takes in the king-sized bed, complete with a large oak bedframe. The bedframe extends up towards the ceiling, tapering off into a spiral pattern carved into the wood. It’s then that Waylon notices how high the ceiling is in this room. He had thought that the ten-foot ceilings in the rest of the house were impressive, but this must be a portion of the house where the roof is slanted at its highest point, because the ceiling goes from about ten feet to an easy fifteen. 

Waylon wanders a bit around the room, looking at the regal looking dresser in the same color wood as the bedframe. A large window with a black frame sits next to the bed, overlooking the large backyard. If Waylon squints, he can almost make out a neighbor’s house, but the view of the mountains in the distance is much more impressive. 

“I hope you like your room.” Eddie steps up next to Waylon and nudges his shoulder. “But not too much. It’s only temporary, after all. Besides,” Eddie beams at him, “the master bedroom is much nicer.” 

Eddie exits the room and Waylon can’t help but look at the decadent bedroom one more time. Even the dresser has intricate designs carved into the wood. 

He trudges into the hallway, where Eddie is waiting for him with an expectant smile. He puts his hand on the door’s knob. The master bedroom is just across the hall from the guest bedroom. “Before I open this door, I want to remind you that I’m happy to make any changes that you might want. Whatever you’d like.” 

The door creaks open and Eddie presses a button. The lights begin to come to life, slowly going from dim to bright. Blinds on the opposite end of the room start to rise, revealing huge windows that overlook the dense woods outside. 

“Holy shit…” Waylon utters. 

“I’m sorry the place is so messy, darling.” Waylon thinks he spies a blush spreading across Eddie’s face as the man speeds around the room, propping up pillows and smoothing out a wrinkle on the black, silk duvet on the bed. 

Waylon’s eyes slowly glance around the immaculate room. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.” 

Eddie continues racing around. “No, no. I want you to feel at home here. It’s not very welcoming walking into somebody else’s pigstie.” 

Next to the bed that Eddie was just fussing over sits a tall fireplace. The mantle of the fireplace is white marble, standing in stark contrast to the black wood of the bedframe. In front of the fireplace sits a bear fur. 

“You hunt?” Waylon asks, eying the brown fur. 

Eddie quickly shakes his head. “No—that’s my father’s. He shot it at the cabin one weekend and decided that it’d look great in my house.” Eddie frowns, blowing out air between his lips. “He won’t let me get rid of it.” 

“I see.” Waylon nods. He quickly abandons the fur on the ground and walks to the other end of the room, where french doors lead into what Waylon can only assume to be the closet. He presses up against one and opens the door to reveal a walk-in closet that’s easily twice the size of his room at Mount Massive. 

Eddie follows him in and instantly starts moving clothes and hangers around. “I promise I’ll make room for your things—I wish I had had time to prep the house before bringing you home—just let me move my stuff to one side of the closet and then you’ll have plenty of space.” 

Waylon watches for a moment as Eddie continues to condense his clothes to the one side of the closet. He must never had paid that much attention at Mount Massive, but Eddie’s clothes are _nice_. He’s not sure how many tailored suits once person might need, but he’s sure that Eddie’s got enough to last him a lifetime. 

“Eddie, you don’t have to move stuff around for me.” Waylon weakly reminds him. “I don’t have any clothes besides the ones I’m wearing, so…” Waylon trails off and shrugs. God, he hadn’t meant to sound that pathetic. 

Eddie sighs loudly. “Right. I’m sorry—I’m getting ahead of myself. I just got so excited. I know I probably sound like a broken record, but I just can’t believe that this is real. You’re actually _here_ —in my _house_ —with _me_.” 

Eddie rocks back forth on his heels happily, and Waylon decides he can’t handle another moment of Eddie’s enthusiasm. 

“Your house is really beautiful, Eddie. Thank you for showing me around.” Waylon reaches out and rubs at one arm awkwardly, unsure of how to ask Eddie for some time alone. “But I’m actually really tired. Do you mind if I lie down for a little bit?” 

Eddie doesn’t look at all disappointed. He’s quickly shaking his head. “Not at all, darling! I’m so sorry, silly me, I’m getting so excited about having you here and showing you the house that I’ve forgotten how exhausted you must be. Poor thing! Go ahead, rest up. We can finish the tour of the house later, and we can decide what we want to do the rest of the day after you’ve had your nap.” 

“Great. Thanks, Eddie.” Waylon exits from the closet and starts walking to the bedroom’s door.

“You can also feel free to use this bed whenever you’d like. Just make yourself at home wherever you’d be most comfortable.” Waylon doesn’t miss the hope building in Eddie’s voice, silently begging Waylon to remain in Eddie’s room and nap in his bed.

Waylon simple turns his head to nod at Eddie, adding, “I’ll remember that,” before exiting the room. 

Waylon tries not to think about what he has awaiting him after he wakes up as he drags himself down the hallway and into the room that Eddie has designated as his for the time being. Or until Eddie decides he wants to take that away from Waylon as well. All Waylon wants to do is pretend that this is not his reality for a little bit. He shuts the bedroom’s door and lumbers over to the bed and peels back the covers. Even though this is the spare bedroom, the blankets still smell like Eddie, and he tries to pretend that he did not just nuzzle his nose into the bedding for a second before realizing what he was doing.

Waylon forces himself to breathe through his mouth as he settles in underneath the blankets. The sheets are soft and silky, and feel heavenly against his skin. 

He shuts his eyes tight and tries to think about his time in Boulder—with Miles. He remembers the cheap but warm jersey knit sheets that he used to sleep with, pilled and frayed from overuse. Their apartment was miniscule, and their shared bedroom always smelled like Miles’ hair gel and the essential oils that Miles insisted helped him sleep. Miles always claimed to have problems sleeping, but Waylon could always hear him snoring in his own bed as soon as his head hit the pillow. Waylon’s bed was only a few feet away from Miles’, so he quickly grew accustomed to Miles’ loud snoring. 

He briefly wonders if Eddie snores.

Waylon shakes his head. Now’s not the time to consider what life with Eddie will be like. He needs to come up with a plan and figure out a way to get out of this mess.

Who knows, Maybe Miles has caught word of what happened and is already working on concocting some crazy scheme to save him. 

Yeah, of course he is. Miles is his best friend, and he knows Waylon’s feelings about having a bond mate. He’ll come for Waylon. Of course he will. It’s that thought that allows Waylon to quiet his mind enough to fall into a dreamless sleep.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Waylon wakes up to a light tapping noise. 

“Waylon? Waylon, are you awake yet?” 

Waylon hears the door squeak and cracks an eye open to see a blurry version of Eddie leaning into the room.

Eddie chuckles and steps inside. “I know you used to sleep like the dead at Mount Massive, so I figured I better come in here and wake you up before you slept the whole day away.”

Waylon rubs his eyes. “Wha-time-issit?” he slurs. He glances out the window. It still looks plenty bright outside. 

Eddie looks at his watch. “It’s about 2:30. You’ve been asleep for over two hours. If you sleep much more, you won’t be able to fall asleep tonight.” 

Waylon responds by pulling the covers over his head. He hears Eddie’s deep chuckling over his bed. “Now, now, Waylon, just because you’re no longer on Mount Massive’s schedule doesn’t mean you get to lay in bed all day.” Waylon feels a hand land on the blanket covering his head. “Come on, we have things we need to do today. Aren’t you hungry?”

Waylon wants to protest, give Eddie the silent treatment again, even though he’s aware it was childish to do the first time, but his stomach does feel awfully empty. He had skipped breakfast that morning, and it seems that he has slept through lunch. 

Waylon sighs deeply, pulling the cover off and quickly standing up. Eddie looks like he is trying to stifle a grin as he leans forward and combs his hand through Waylon’s locks of hair. 

“I don’t know how, but you get the absolute worst bed-head, darling.”

Yeah, Waylon was already aware of that. His hair pretty much has a mind of its own. 

It’s when Eddie quickly licks his hand to slick back a rebellious piece of Waylon’s hair that Waylon swipes at Eddie’s intrusion. “Eddie, really?” 

Eddie blushes slightly and puts his hand behind his back, a sheepish smile on his face. “I’m sorry, Waylon. Couldn’t resist.”

“Well please try.” Waylon growls. 

Eddie’s smile grows bigger, prompting Waylon to glare at the man. He’s clearly not taking Waylon seriously. 

“So what do you want to do next? We could go get groceries and pick you up some toiletries, or we could start off at the mall and get you some new clothes? Or we could go grab a bite for lunch?” Eddie looks exuberant as he lists the items off his itinerary for the day. 

Waylon stares at Eddie for a moment before shrugging. “I really don’t care. Whatever you want to do, Eddie.” If Eddie is expecting him to be enthusiastic about any aspect of this, he’s out of his mind. 

Eddie nods. “Alright, I’m thinking that we should start with grocery shopping today? Maybe focus on essentials for now, and leave shopping for clothes until tomorrow?” He extends his hand out to Waylon. Waylon simply huffs and stalks past Eddie and into the hallway. He treks over to the entryway and crams his feet into the shoes that Trager gave him back at the hospital and shoves his hands in his pockets as he waits for Eddie by the front door. Eddie follows after him a moment later, whistling as he grabs his keys and his wallet from the small table next to the door. 

Waylon follows him back out to the car, relieved when Eddie doesn’t try to open the door for him this time. They sit down and buckle their seat belts. 

“Good nap?” Eddie asks, smiling as he starts the car. 

Waylon shrugs. It would have been better if he hadn’t woken up. 

“Well you’ll have plenty of time to rest later.” Eddie comments as he turns the vehicle around and heads down the driveway. Waylon makes sure to pay attention this time and notes how long Eddie’s driveway is and where his nearest neighbor lives. This is all information that could possibly come in handy to Waylon later. 

He’s thankful that Eddie is content with silence for a bit. He’s just woken up, but Waylon already feels exhausted as he watches trees zoom past his window. Or maybe he’s just feeling particularly overwhelmed by life. He thinks that he’s justified in feeling this way. 

Waylon feels himself start to nod off again when a question from Eddie jerks him awake. 

“What did your apartment look like? I saw some photos from the case notes, but it was after they removed most of the furniture.”

Waylon lets out a huge yawn before answering. “It wasn’t really anything special.” While that may be true, it was something that Waylon and Miles had together. It was _theirs_. “Miles had a friend looking to get rid of her old love seat, and then I found a recliner and table at a thrift shop.” Waylon had actually really loved that old, ugly recliner. He has some good memories staying up late curled up on that chair with a cozy blanket and hot tea; he would always drift off while doing some coding work, prompting Miles to come find him and yell at him to go to bed if he was so exhausted. 

Eddie swivels his head to face Waylon, looking very distressed. “You picked those out?” 

Waylon frowns. “Well, yeah?” 

Eddie’s eyes widen to a comic degree. 

Waylon snorts. “Okay, well you can keep your judgements to yourself. Unless you ever sat on that chair, you have no right to hate on it.”

“But you…” Eddie starts off, almost timidly. “You knew that that chair was uglier than sin, right?”

Waylon barks out a laugh, he can’t help it. “Why? Are you afraid that that’s how I’ll try to decorate your house?”

“No!” Eddie insists. “You could make whatever changes to our home, and it’d be totally fine with me…”

“But…?”

Eddie cringes. “But brown plaid is heinous, darling, and I’d be a liar if I kept that truth from you.”

Waylon finds himself laughing again, a laugh that starts deep in his belly and erupts easily in his throat. It feels good to be laughing like this again with Eddie. He’d missed it, didn’t know how much he’d needed it, even. 

“Don’t worry, Eddie, your house is safe from my inept interior design skills. I really don’t care about how the house is decorated.” He turns his head up to look at Eddie and gives him a soft smile. “Honestly, I’m fine if you keep it just how it is.” 

Before he can question why exactly he said that, Eddie groans loudly. 

“Darling, please.” Eddie is frowning deeply and briefly glancing between Waylon and the road. “The last thing I want is for you to move into our home and feel like you’re just some last-minute addition to my life. You’re not an after-thought. Even if it means you adding a horrendous brown plaid couch in every room, I’d be alright with that, as long as it helps you view our home as yours.”

Waylon can’t help but let his smile grow at that. That was actually really sweet. “Thanks, Eddie,” he murmurs. Eddie leans over and squeezes Waylon’s hand for a second before bringing his hand back to the wheel. 

Waylon sighs quietly and wiggles downward in his seat. Why is he letting Eddie get to him like this? He shouldn’t be smiling like this at him; for god’s sake, earlier that day Eddie had obtained ownership over him without even blinking. 

It’s not like Waylon enjoys being surly, but he doesn’t feel like he should be entertaining Eddie’s wild ideas that Waylon will transition into their new arrangement if he’s just given enough time. Their relationship isn’t going to look like it did before—it can’t, not after everything that’s happened. 

But it’s just so damn easy to let himself forget about that. He can feel himself start to gravitate towards Eddie again, mind already forgetting— _choosing_ to forget—all the things that Eddie has said to him in the last twenty-four hours. 

Waylon is so busy sulking and thinking about his current relationship with Eddie, that he doesn’t notice when the car slows down and coasts into a parking spot. 

“You ready?” Eddie asks, looking at him with a wide smile. Eddie looks a bit apprehensive, though, Waylon thinks—his brows slightly furrowed and his smile not quite reaching his eyes. 

“Yep.” Waylon answers, popping the _p_. Eddie watches him as he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car before getting out of the car himself. 

The pair begins walking towards the store side by side. Waylon shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling the nipping cold of the wind. Even though it’s spring, it’s a surprisingly chilly day. 

A heavy weight falls on Waylon’s shoulders. He looks up to see Eddie smoothing out the black pea coat that he’s just placed on Waylon’s shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, this is the second time I’ve forgotten to tell you to dress warmer.” Eddie smiles apologetically at him. 

Waylon rolls his eyes. “Why are you apologizing? That’s not your fault.” He puts his arms through the sleeves. Again, the coat is much too large for him, and he’s not exactly thrilled to be stealing Eddie’s coat from him a second time, but he’s cold, damnit. Then a thought occurs to him. “Oh shit, I never gave you your jacket back after last time… It burnt in the fire, didn’t it?” That poor leather jacket didn’t deserve its fate—it was so warm, and the weighty material felt so nice, and it smelt like Eddie…

They step onto the door mat and the electronic doors swing wide open. As they trudge across the threshold Eddie gives Waylon a teasing smile. “I promise you, that’s completely fine. I’m just a little bit more attached to the person I gave the jacket to than I was the jacket. But you can always buy me a new one to make up for it.” 

Waylon nods earnestly. “Deal.” He’s aware that Eddie is just messing around, but Waylon fully plans to replace the jacket that he inadvertently ruined. 

Eddie chuckles and leans forward to card his hand through Waylon’s hair, smoothing the wind-blown mess. “But first things first—do you even own a comb? Am I going to have to teach you how to use it after we buy one for you?” 

Eddie hands start ruffling Waylon’s hair, and Waylon playfully shoves him away. “Get out of here—go find a mirror and fuss over your perfectly gelled hair.” 

Eddie’s laugh fills the space around them, rich and deep. Waylon feels his knees go a little wobbly at the sound. He watches as Eddie whistles a happy tune as he strolls towards the line of shopping carts. Waylon had always thought it was unfair how perfect Eddie is. People shouldn’t be allowed to be tall, handsome, funny, and intelligent. It should be more of a pick three deal. Eddie’s got a stacked deck, and that’s cheating. 

Waylon feels a blush creep across his face as he watches Eddie quickly grab a cart and wheel it over towards Waylon, still grinning happily. Waylon quickly averts his eyes and pretends to look around the store. Eddie reaches out into his back pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. Waylon stands on his tip-toes to peek at the thing—it’s a grocery list of items that Eddie wants to pick up. 

Eddie starts pushing the creaking cart forward. Waylon notices the cart veering slightly to the left, due to one wheel that doesn’t seem to want to roll just right, and places a hand on the front of the cart to steady it and keep it moving forward in a straight path. Eddie reads from the written list of items in his hand. “Tooth brush, mouth wash—do you have a favorite shampoo?” He looks up at Waylon and cocks his head. 

“No.” Waylon mumbles. Eddie continues reading through his list, switching between watching where the cart is going and scanning his writing. 

Waylon continues to glance around the store. He keeps noticing people’s eyes lingering on him. Ever since they entered the store, he’s had the weird sense that he’s being watched, and after peeking around the store, he finds that he’s right. 

People are staring at him. 

He can’t remember receiving this many curious glances since he was discovered as an omega, but those stares were more questioning than anything else. This? this is just unnerving. 

“Eddie…” Waylon slows down so he’s walking directly next to Eddie and taps him on the shoulder.

“Hm?” Eddie looks up from his list to meet Waylon’s eyes.

“Do you feel like…” Waylon stops briefly to wet his lips and look around. “Like people are staring at us or something?” 

Eddie’s head swivels from side to side as he pointedly takes in their surroundings. He then raises an eyebrow at Waylon. “Not really, no.” He takes a step closer to Waylon and ducks his head slightly to allow for my privacy between the two when he whispers, “Are you starting to feel uncomfortable? We can leave whenever you want.” 

Waylon glances around the store once more. “No, it’s fine.” He says distractedly. “I probably just haven’t been out in public much in a long time. Just feels funny being back is all.”

Waylon turns back and faces Eddie, who is nodding his head, but watching him with a careful expression. 

“Okay, but do tell me if you decide this is too much for you.” 

Waylon nods and grasps the front of the cart again. Eddie points towards the hygiene aisle, and Waylon helps turn the cart and direct it towards an array of tooth brushes.

Eddie stops the cart next to Waylon and moves past him. “Why don’t you pick out a toothbrush and whatever else you might need in this aisle. I’ll be right back.” 

Waylon watches him trot down the aisle and turn into a different one. He brings his attention back to the dental hygiene products in front of him. His shoulders are slumped as he reaches out and picks up a blue toothbrush. Might as well grab a few essentials, even if he’s not planning on staying with Eddie for very long…

He takes a few steps further into the aisle to pick out some floss, and notices out of the corner of his eyes a man and a woman smiling at him. The woman leans over and whispers something into the man’s ears. The man nods and they both smile at him again. 

Waylon quickly turns his back to them, stepping to the other end of the aisle. A pair of teenaged girls are turning the corner, one of them bumping into Waylon’s shoulder. 

“Sorry!” The girl’s quiet voice squeaks out. 

Waylon is about to tell her that it’s alright, but the girl’s cheeks turn pink, and she lifts a hand to cover her broad smile. The pair of girls speed down the aisle and away from Waylon. He watches as they look over their shoulders at Waylon and start giggling. 

Okay, fuck this, Waylon decides. Where’s Eddie? He’s ready to leave now. 

“Eddie?” He calls as he prowls past the aisles, searching for Eddie’s familiar broad figure. 

Everywhere he looks, it seems like people are watching him go. It’s fucking unnerving, and Waylon wants out, but he doesn’t see Eddie anywhere. 

“Eddie!” He calls, raising his voice a little. His face bumps into a solid figure. He looks up, frowning when he sees a face peering down at him that doesn’t belong to Eddie. “I’m sorry, excuse me…” He mumbles, making to move past the taller man. 

The man’s eyebrows furrow, and he briefly looks around before following after Waylon. “Are you lost? I can help you find your alpha, if you’d like?” The man has a deep southern accent, and it takes Waylon an extra second to process what he’s saying. 

Waylon turns to look at the larger man again. The guy looks genuinely concerned, which just further annoys Waylon. Part of him wants to tell the man that he can manage himself at a grocery store just fine, thank you very much, but the other part of him is tempted to take him up on his offer. He just feels so anxious with everyone’s eyes following him everywhere he goes. 

The man inches towards him, and Waylon is reminded of how someone might approach a spooked animal; It just further aggravates him. He’s not some helpless, hurt doe—he just doesn’t want to deal with people’s shit right now. 

Waylon turns back around, doesn’t even look at the man when he spits out, “I’m fine!” and then stalks away. 

If he doesn’t find Eddie in the next minute, he’s just going to wait in the parking lot. 

He continues stalking past the aisles until he reaches the other end of the store. “Where the fuck did he go…” He grumbles.

He hears the sound of someone lightly clearing their throat and turns around to see a young woman standing there with her hands behind her back. 

“Pardon me, but I couldn’t help but notice that you seem a bit upset right now. Anything I can help you with?” The woman continues smiling sweetly at him.

Waylon narrows his eyes as he gives the woman a critical sweep. She’s a tall lady, with really pronounced cheek bones, but she’s not wearing a uniform or a nametag, so why is she asking if he needs help?

“Do you work here?” Waylon slowly asks, his tone of voice indicating how odd he finds the woman’s behavior.

The woman gives a dismissive wave of her hand and continues smiling. “No, no. I just couldn’t help but notice that you look a bit flustered. It’s hard for any alpha to dismiss the scent of a distressed omega, y’know?” 

Waylon clenches his fists. “No, I don’t know.”

The woman doesn’t seem at all taken aback by Waylon’s frustration at her words. “Do you want to tell me what your alpha looks like? I could help you look for them. Or you could tell me their name and we could make an announcement on the intercom? I’m sure the store manager wouldn’t mind.” Her smile doesn’t falter whatsoever, she simply raises her chin and studies Waylon.

Waylon has a flashback to when he was a kid and let go of his mother’s hand in a department store and the sales associate who found him had to make an announcement. Waylon had sat there sobbing as “Mr. Park, please come to the help desk to retrieve your son,” echoed through the store. 

Waylon’s scowl deepens and he takes a step back from the woman. “No thank you. I don’t need any help finding him.” He grits out. 

The woman takes another step towards Waylon, careful to keep her hands folded behind her. Waylon recognizes what she’s doing—Eddie had explained that he used to take this stance with Waylon a lot in their early therapy days; she’s trying to make herself come off as less imposing—something that a lot of progressive alphas work towards these days. The thought that this alpha isn’t trying to intimidate him should be a comfort, but it pisses him off even more. He doesn’t need to be coddled—nor does he want that sort of treatment—he just wants to be left alone. 

He swivels around and starts crossing to the other end of the store this time, glancing into each aisle as he stomps on. He hears the sound of light footsteps behind him and notices that the female alpha is following him.

Waylon stops and faces the woman. “What are you doing?” He asks, narrowing his eyes. He takes a step towards the alpha and tries to stand to his fullest height in his best attempt to appear assertive. He’s got this shit under control, and it’s time for this alpha to understand that and back off. 

She takes a step back in retreat and hunches slightly. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be weird or creepy or anything.” She pauses and bites her lips. “I just know that if my omega got lost and couldn’t find me, I’d hope that someone would make sure she was alright.” 

“Waylon!!” 

Waylon quickly swivels his head and sees Eddie running towards him. As Eddie gets closer Waylon notices his splotchy looking complexion and sweaty forehead. 

“Are you okay?!” Eddie looks at Waylon up and down with wide eyes. “What happened?! Where did you go?” Eddie’s hands quickly grab onto Waylon and envelops him in a tight hug. 

Waylon lets himself bask in the scent of cedar and oak. Just for a minute, he tells himself. 

“Aww, ain’t that the sweetest. Glad you were able to find him alright.” Waylon hears the familiar drawl from his position nestled against Eddie’s chest. He cranes his neck to see the man from earlier.

The woman is nodding vigorously besides him. “Yes, in all honesty I think he was emitting enough pheromones to have every alpha within a mile’s radius nervous.” 

Eddie tugs Waylon closer. “I’m sorry to make you both worry—he was there one minute and then gone the next.”

The woman shakes her head. “No apologies necessary. We’ve all been there. That’s why it’s important that us alphas step up to help watch out for each other’s omegas.”

The man is nodding gravely. “You never know who might be out there. Not all alphas share that sentiment.” The man glances around and leans forward, whispering conspiratorially into Eddie’s ear. “You ever hear about the omega black market?” Both the female alpha and Eddie gasp audibly. 

Waylon tenses in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie tightens his hold on Waylon.

“Your boy was attracting lots of attention, even before you lost track of him. Seems his pre-heat scent is pretty easy to pick up on, even for betas. That’s impressive, considering he has your coat on masking his scent. But even still, parading an omega around that’s about to go into heat can be dangerous—especially if the omega hasn’t been fully claimed.”

Waylon can feel Eddie’s body stiffen. His ear pressed against Eddie’s chest picks up on his heart beat starting to speed up. 

The man continues, adding, “You never know what could happen. Unfortunately, not all alphas, hell even betas, are trustworthy. That’s why I got my omega microchipped. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Waylon shivers slightly, disturbed by the man’s casual words. As if sensing Waylon’s discomfort, Eddie starts retreating with Waylon still tucked against his chest. “Thank you both again! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you looking out for Waylon!” 

“Of course!” He hears the woman call out.

“Make sure you keep a close watch on that one!” The man says, chuckling after them. 

Once they’ve taken a few steps away, Waylon pushes his way out of Eddie’s arms. He stands straight and looks at Eddie, ready to go off on him. He’s opened his mouth, ready to let Eddie have it—he doesn’t need Eddie holding on to him like he’s about to break, and where the fuck did he disappear to five minutes ago? But Waylon quickly shuts his mouth when he notices the mistiness of Eddie’s eyes and the drying tear tracks on his face. 

Well shit. 

Instead, he grabs at Eddie’s hand and pulls him down an aisle. He just wants to talk to Eddie away from those two prying alphas. Once he’s satisfied that nobody else is around, he let’s go of Eddie’s hand and turns and faces him, inhaling deeply and combing a hand through his hair. 

Eddie reaches forward and grabs onto his shoulders, eyes welling with tears once more. “I was so nervous Waylon… I walked away for a minute, and when I came back, you were gone. Then the whole store smelled like you were so upset—I thought someone had hurt you, or tried to take you away from me…” Eddie lets out a shaky breath and squeezes Waylon’s shoulders. “Can we please make sure that doesn’t happen again?”

Waylon nods quickly. “I didn’t mean to… These people were just watching me, and it felt weird. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t find you… I guess I got a little nervous, too. I’m sorry, Eddie.” 

Eddie’s face breaks into a smile, which is a weird sight in Waylon’s mind, considering that he’s still crying. In fact, it’s bizarre to see Eddie crying in general—usually Waylon’s the one to get weepy. 

“That’s okay, Waylon. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I left you alone back there—I won’t do that again.” 

Waylon feels a part of him deflate. That’s—that’s not what he wanted. He feels bad for making Eddie cry, but he definitely doesn’t need Eddie to try to be more diligent in watching him. In fact, that’s pretty much the opposite of what he wants.

Eddie reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, using it to dab at his eyes. He shoves the cloth back into his pocket and flashes a pearly-white smile at Waylon. “How about we head out and stop to pick up some food on our way back? We can pick up whatever you’d like and eat at home.”

Waylon internally cringes at the mention of “home”, but he has to admit that he’s ready to leave this store and all the creepy patrons and annoying alphas. 

“Sure.” Waylon nods, walking next to Eddie to the exit. 

They make their way through the parking lot and into Eddie’s car. Waylon sits there quietly, trying to mentally prepare himself to spend an evening alone with Eddie at his house. 

_Your house, too_. A pesky voice inside him corrects. 

Waylon quickly shakes his head in an attempt to dislodge that train of that. It’ll be a cold day in hell before he ever claims that place as his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I’ve never written so much about interior design in my life, and I hope to never do that again lol. I had planned to put this chapter and the next chapter together, but I ended up splitting them up because it would have been too long, so I was a little unmotivated to do the finishing touches to this chapter, as the next chapter is a lot more dramatic and fun. 
> 
> If you’re still confused about some aspects of the bond, so is Waylon. They didn’t do all that comprehensive of a lesson for him, so he’ll be learning about the bond first-hand as time goes on.


End file.
